


Reap What You Sow

by mz_valkyrie



Series: Reap What You Sow [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alpha Slade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Fix-It, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Mpreg In Sequel, Omega Oliver, Omega Verse, Pheromones, Scenting, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 117,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mz_valkyrie/pseuds/mz_valkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen may be the most dangerous Omega in Starling City, but even he knows better than to go into heat around an Alpha. Especially when said Alpha was Slade Wilson, intent on taking everything away from him.</p><p>Can their affections see through their hatred? Or will their pasts threaten to destroy their future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Future Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts during the end events of _The Scientist_ (2.08), as such some of the dialogue and actions are directly lifted from it.

He feels the knives puncture below his left kneecap without so much as a flinch in response. They’re thin, fine, jutted in deep enough past dense muscle that he notices them through stifled breathing. Oliver’s putting all his attention into just exhaling with cracked ribs that his thigh may as well be suffering from pins and needles.

_That Alpha was way too strong._

Also, this mission established nothing, only so far confirming he was just as under-equipped to deal with this growing Mirakuru army as he’d previously thought.

Twitching slightly out of reflex, the skivers in his leg don’t seem to impede much deeper, having him doubt their dagger nature.  _What the hell are they then?_

He barely remembers being stabbed by the super solider, let alone the Alpha bringing any other weapons to the fight besides his fists. Not that he’d needed anything else, a couple direct blows and Oliver’s mind was reeling just trying to manage all the pain he was in.

And although lightheaded, it was necessary to make sure he wasn’t bleeding out from the sudden numbness paralysing him.

Shrapnel could be poking out of him and he wouldn’t know any different.

From this angle, he couldn’t try a direct glance down to assess his injuries all too well, neck protesting the sudden whiplash damage from the way he’d fallen.

Everything ached.

Without Dig or Felicity, Oliver didn’t think he could stand, let alone walk out of this wreckage unaided. One arm trapped useless behind him—possibly pulled out of its socket—, he settled on pulling the easier right one out from underneath its personal rummage pile.

Half a dozen boxes and their contents fell over the place as Oliver pulled the last of his appendage free, bringing it up to rest against his chest. Wincing, he ignored the urge to cradle his bruised sternum, knowing full well he won’t remain conscious for much longer to care. There were bigger things he needed to worry about.

Like the discomfort creeping through his veins that was becoming increasingly more apparent, something he’d been on the lookout now for days about.

Abrasions and wounds Oliver could discount, and he was far more equipped to deal with. Going into heat right now, would be an all new disaster unto itself.

It was possible he could even blame some of his bodily aches on the former, not just feeling like he’d been put through the ringer in his fight just now.

Last time he’d nearly gone four full months on the suppressants without breaking out in any significant symptoms. He’d have to go off the suppressants tonight if he wanted to make the experience even a tiny bit more manageable. These super soldiers had to be stopped though, so this time he'd hoped he could bank on later rather than sooner before his biology betrayed him.

_Apparently not,_  a cramp stabbing him in the abdomen as he attempted to alleviate himself off the floor. He didn't have much time.

He’s not going to be getting out of here alone. Fumbling around in his hood for the tracking transmitter, a small  _blip_ goes off. Oliver releases a sigh of relief, allowing himself to flop back downwards, limbless.

Knowing the distress beacon would have gone off in the basement of Verdant ceases one worry in his mind.

There’s spots dancing behind his eyes and he blinks wearily. Fingers-crossed the scent neutralizer would dampen the scent of his impending heat while he’s out. At least Dig was a trustworthy-enough Alpha to be around,  _right?_ Dig was still with the Michaels woman, so nothing to worry about there.

Except neglecting to tell the people in his life one more secret.

xxxxxxxx

When the sirens go off in the substructure of Verdant, Felicity practically jumps out of her seat.

“What is that?” she asks herself, flittering through a few tabs on her computer before locating the source.

_Oh_ , Felicity nearly mouths aloud, programming off the alarm before spinning around on her chair.

Diggle was there, his dark eyes meeting hers filled only with concern.

“Oliver’s in trouble,” Dig states matter-of-factly, striding over to the desktop setup. 

Felicity shook her head absentmindedly before wheeling back over to the task at hand. She’d quickly deactivated the blaring but the noise had still been enough to assault her ears and scatter her brain.

“Right,” she remarked, pulling up a screen that should give them a location.

If Oliver hadn’t remained at the bunker, the small GPS in his boot should give them his whereabouts.

Beside her, she feels Dig stiffen, she too resisting her own urges to voice her frets. It was only once in a blue moon that they were coming to Oliver’s rescue and not the other way round. Trying her best to put those thoughts aside, Felicity pinpoints the signal.

“Got it, still at the shelter downtown,” she says, dashing out from underneath the desk to get to her feet.

Already ahead of her, Dig begins to ascend the stairs.

Before making her way there too, Felicity snatches up her tablet, in case Oliver tried to make a move. Dig barely says anything, Alpha protective instincts likely kicked into overdrive at knowing Oliver was out there hurt—obviously unable to return alone.

Back with the job Dig started with, it had been his duty to protect Oliver Queen, that was still a given now. What changed was before John Diggle did that out of assignment—moral obligation—, where an Alpha should always take care of lesser capable Betas and Omegas. Rich boy Beta Oliver had shown to be more than apt at defending himself, yet now Dig was protecting a fellow brother in arms, a friend.

They ascended the steps two at a time, only turning back to check that the basement door was secure. None of the club staff were in yet so they were able to hurry through the foyer inconspicuously.

Felicity huffed slightly as they scrambled outside and into the small limousine parked there.

_Running in heels, this just isn’t my day._

“You ready?” Dig asked, casting her a sideward glance as he keyed the ignition.

She lets a smile tug at her lips, imploring that it looks genuine, hoping she doesn’t look as nervous as she feels. Diggle’s sight doesn’t leave her though, car starting with a vibrant whir, when Felicity mentally slaps herself, buckling her seatbelt.

“Don’t worry,” Dig assures her, “he’ll be fine.”

She wants to believe him, but she knows better.

xxxxxxxx

It takes them seven minutes, thirty-two seconds to reach the A.R.G.U.S. bunker. Not that anyone was counting, Felicity even pleading with Diggle to speed here and there. Reaching the edge of the Glades meant a detour, bypassing several unusable streets, until they reached the blockhouse which looked no worse for wear after an earthquake.

_Or having a super solider rip through it,_ Felicity mused.

The back roller doors were left distinctly open and Dig breathed a sigh of relief when they drove through undiscovered. They were lucky to be the first—preferably only—ones there.

“Let’s go, Felicity,” Dig pressed, pulling the safety pin out of his glock.

Felicity dropped her notebook from where she’d been watching Oliver’s eerily stagnant signal, again scuffling out of the vehicle in her stilettos.

It’s quiet within the fortified building, although they cannot be certain they are alone.

“Oliver!” Dig calls, not sure whether to expect a response, advancing through the dilapidated ledges and ravaged wares.

Behind him, Felicity’s shoes clacked nosily on the concrete. She likely wanted to avoid tripping over, yet wanted to lookout for Oliver’s safety as much as he did. Managing to keep her balance, Felicity catches up next to him, calling out just as he did.

Arms outstretched with his pistol at the ready, Dig drops them when he hears Felicity shriek. When he wheels around to where her voice came from, he sees the young Beta crouch beside Oliver’s limp body.  _Not good._ From the way his body was crooked awkwardly, legs outstretched atop the broken shelves, he could have been…

“Is he alive?” Dig falters, Felicity going over Oliver’s injuries.

Oliver hadn’t been de-hooded so his identity likely wasn’t out; they had that going for them. “Pulse is weak, but it’s there,” she offered, bringing her hands away from his neck.

_Unconscious, but alive,_ that was better.

_Not great though_ , Dig thought, hovering to the side while Felicity tried to stir their fallen comrade.

“His pupils are dilated,” Felicity shouted, “running a fever and he’s sweating,” she lists off symptoms, bringing her hands away from Oliver’s face to wipe them on her jeans.

She goes to pull away, get to her feet when she notices the needles protruding from Oliver’s calf. Diggle perks up at Felicity’s quiet gasp, taking notice from where he’d been keeping watch.

“What the hell was that?” Dig called, leaving his position of lookout.

Felicity was slowly easing both injections out of Oliver’s leg as painlessly as possible.

Oliver doesn’t spark, remaining immobile.  _From unseen wounds or the drug’s contents?_ Diggle doesn’t get much of an answer as Felicity only responds, voice frantic, having as little knowledge on the situation as he did.

“I don’t know, it’s coded,” she cried, referring to the needles’ indecipherable writing.

Taking the tubes, once containing who knows what, Felicity darted to the computer near the wall, leaving Oliver to Dig.

Its surface was cracked, glass shattered, maybe even from the Vigilante’s fight with their thief earlier. “Dammit,” she shouted, monitor practically dead, “I can't break into the dispensary files.” Diggle’s at her side then, though the computer is useless to them.

“I have no idea what he was injected with!” Felicity looks down at the contents in her hand, like hoping it would give them the solution to their problem.

“Poisoned with,” she says, watching Dig replace his gun by his hip, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” she queries, beeps coming from Dig’s cell, and she thinks she has a pretty good idea why.

“Calling 9-1-1,” he verified sternly, and Felicity almost snatches the phone out his hand at the notion of it.

“Dig, wait!”

Oliver could be dying, but they couldn’t detriment his life, he wouldn’t have one either if he went to prison.

“Can’t wait,” Dig breaths back at her, clearly just as on edge as she was.

His eyes were alive and Felicity knows she’s never seen Dig like this before. Worried beyond anything, where a solider was supposed to press on in wake of their lost comrades.

Their team wasn’t like that, should never become like that. They joined Oliver to help him, which also meant protecting his secret. No matter how much Felicity might have disagreed with Oliver’s crusade in the beginning.

“How are we supposed to explain this? Everyone's going to find out Oliver's the Vigilante!”

Felicity tries to reason, making sure Dig had ceased calling an ambulance. There was no way they could hide this, not this time. Replacing Oliver’s clothes and passing his condition off as another motorbike accident could have worked, stupidly enough. Yet, they didn’t have time for that now. Felicity was running out of ideas.

“Which won't matter if he's dead,” Dig asserted again, possibly sealing Oliver’s fate as the mobile rang. She grabbed it off him, dismissing the line before an operator picked up, even as Dig berated her, “that they couldn’t save him”.

“I know, you're right,” Felicity huffed, acknowledging that to Diggle.

“We can’t.”

He hadn’t won the conversation though, yet. They still had one last option.

Turning back to Oliver, Felicity had to hope they could trust the young Beta in mind.

xxxxxxxx

_Oliver remembers the first time he had sex with an Alpha. Like actual sex, Alpha-Omega, the way it was supposed to be. Or so they said, but Oliver had never brought into that to begin with. It wasn’t just a drunken haze of sexual debauchery or swollen hickeys like they always used to be with him. Not just an Alpha female that thought he was a Beta either._

_No, this had been real; there had been no secrecy there._

_He had to admit, it wasn’t hard to pass as a Beta; they were more common than any other dynamic and keeping company with them had like scent rubbing off on you. Oliver, as usual, hadn’t expected the signs of his heat to appear so fast before he caved into them. Not helping either, Helena’s return had reopened wounds he didn’t want to admit still existed._

_He’d been better than that before the island, managed to brush aside relationship scars like water off a duck’s back. Sure, Helena had been great for recreational intercourse, though he’d never let her knot him. Alpha female or not, she’d probably rolled over for her late Omega partner in the past and let him take charge._

_She’d done the same for Beta Oliver Queen, they always did, and it made his life a lot easier. Only having to avoid sex during his heats and having a plethora of willing candidates to choose from made his life awfully fulfilling. At least in his teenage years it did, where a good shag the day after would usually settle his body from its accursed cycle._

_Touch-starved on an island for several dozen heats definitely changed his way of dealing with them._

_The first month afterwards was generous though, suppressants and Beta spray would have him living as a free man again. Three months, four maximum, was his limits and he knew better than to push his limits or expect those barriers to buckle._

_Go off the blockers once every season, or rather, when his body forced him to, and then just go back to being a Beta._

Right?

_No, it couldn’t be that simple._

_That’s why when Helena had showed up on his doorstep—or rather inside his house, on the sofa—, he was not in the least bit prepared for it. Having her show up again makes his skin crawl, heat bubbling up inside him in the presence of an Unbonded Alpha he’d once been intimate with._

_Right now he had Beta Mckenna to worry about being attached to the hip to, not an ex-girlfriend he might feel the unexpected need to Bond to._

_It doesn't happen; Helena keeps her hands, for the most part, off him. Oliver was mainly thankful she didn’t weed him out as an Omega, scent neutralizer as the Hood and Beta deodorant otherwise managing to keep him covered. Shoving her on a plane off to Europe could have become a lot harder had she has one more secret of his under the belt._

_In spite of putting Helena out of the picture again, that evening is where the real problem catches up to him._

_He’s still going into heat, and fast._

_But at that point, he can’t really bring himself to care._

_Tommy sits with him in the club after Mckenna’s broken it off with him. He’s apologizing a lot and Oliver can’t help but want a hangover to accompany his burning insides. It might soothe his grief, but not the prickle under his skin that’s just starting to hammer him now._

Ugh now, really?

_“Do you want a drink?” Tommy offers, having the same idea he had. Oliver nods, knowing better but falling prey to his misery anyway._

Tommy’s not a Bonded Alpha, he’ll understand.

_The Alpha leaves his side for the bar, while Oliver’s heart and head wrestle with the idea of casual sex with his ‘best friend’._

Do it you deserve it, _his weary heart would press._ What about Laurel, she wouldn’t appreciate this,  _his conscious mentally would press him._ He’s not her Alpha though,  _and it’s not like Oliver intends to Bond Tommy._

_That settles it; he squashes his higher reasoning as Tommy brings back multiple shot glasses and a bottle of_ Russian Standard _._

_“Did you have to grab_ the Russian _?” he groaned, only able to get it so far through importing._

_Dropping the vodka on the table, Tommy smiles and Oliver wonders at what point will his pheromones overwhelm the Beta spray. It was before going to the hospital he’d reapplied it, so it’d been on for a couple hours._

Not long now.

_“Of course I did, I haven’t had this one yet and it looks good,” Tommy mused, breaking the silence._

_Watching him pour shots for both of them, Oliver hopes Tommy can forgive him._

_Maybe not for lying about being an Omega, or just lack of telling the truth, but for what he’s about to do—or at least try to._

_Its aftertaste was harsh, scalding yet still weak enough to drink straight. Tommy coughs lightly, where Oliver has to refrain from laughing, knowing he could no longer stomach alcohol like he used to. It’s probably better if he doesn’t; getting wasted made for poor sex, ill-coherent movements, let alone if he wanted to be knotted, which is the end goal here. Hiccupping, Tommy grabs the bottle again preparing another round._

_This goes on for a while, drowning their sorrows and ill trust with one another in alcohol, until half an hour or so has passed._

_This was so low of him to do, but he feels like his heat will kill him, especially because he’ll never become used to avoiding sex. Tommy looks up at him eventually, wide-eyed, possibly from the alcohol yet when he looks up at Oliver there’s genuine shock there. He avoids pulling back instinctively when Tommy snatches his palm up from the table, pulling it to his nostrils, scenting him at an awkward angle. A smug grin spreads across Oliver’s expression._

_“Were you ever going to tell me about this?” Tommy demands, frowning, pushing the liquor aside._

_His eyes are glassy and he’s slurring his words marginally. Tipsy, not drunk._

_Oliver inhaled heavily, the air bringing with it his natural pheromones he always seemed to forget the smell of. Musky, with subtle metallic undertones; still distinctly that of an Omega’s._

_“Well, this is how I’ve decided to reveal myself,” Oliver chuckles, alcohol having gone straight to his head._

_Maybe Tommy would see the humour in it?_

_He reached for the bottle, pouring himself another drink as his friend just glares daggers at him._

_“Speechless, are we?” Oliver pried, wanting the quiet to suspend._

_Head tipping forward, Oliver knows he’s probably beginning to look worse for wear. Stomach contracting sharply, he grumbled softly. His metabolism sure wasn’t what it used to be. His body didn't agree with him further poisoning it at the moment either._

_Tommy begins to observe him like a wounded animal._

_“Are you okay?” Tommy pushes, eyebrows softening and pulling the vodka away from his grasp._

_Oliver looks at him offended, responding anyway._

_“Y’know, I’ve had just one heat since being back from the island,” he said, acknowledging his dynamic aloud, “And it was hell. Knowing I also could have done something about it just makes it even worse.”_

_Tommy looks at him unblinkingly, Oliver’s voice cracking._

_So that’s what this was about,_ _it would have been funny to Tommy—best friend being an Omega, had it not been such a weird situation… and a serious one._

_“But why me? Wouldn’t you prefer… y’know a girl?”_

_Tommy looks at Oliver, usually so strong, vigorous, since he’d come back from the island, and doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to be an Omega. The idea of it was almost ludicrous yet his scent undeniable._

_Appealing, though this was his best friend he was thinking about._

_“Tommy, seriously. I need someone who can fuck me. The list of Alpha females I know at this stage is practically non-existent, and there’s even fewer people I’d trust to do something like this,” Oliver scoffs, shoulders stiffening and beginning to look readily in distress._

_Up swiftly, Oliver pulled Tommy with him, hands-on his shoulders._

_“What about Laurel?” Tommy stops him, brushing the other’s palms off his torso._

_Oliver wants to growl at him, bites his tongue. There are few who would dare refuse his advances and he’s becoming readily irritated, what he wants just within grasp. Pride marginally hurt, Oliver tries again, with the more open approach._

_“Tommy, I know you love her and I wouldn’t ask you, unless I didn’t think this was going to drive me absolutely insane. You can still hate me that won’t bother me, I just need you to bed me and be done with it,” Oliver admits, ending with a slight growl._

When was the last time I had sex?

_Thinking back, it was early December—ugh, Helena—three months ago, he deserved a medal for that level of restraint. The Alpha quirks an eyebrow back at Oliver, looking like he might be mildly persuaded at this stage._

_‘Just like old times, no commitments, no worries,” Oliver jokes, half-seriously._

_“So, like friends with benefits?” Tommy seems to spark up, lust possibly overriding his sense of reason at having a ready Omega before him._

Okay, good, just a little more.

_“Yeah, I guess—but I’m really just keen for now. Anything else can wait,” he said, resisting the urge to reach out for the Alpha in front of him._

_Everything inside of him felt like it was burning with the intensity of the sun, a Vertigo overdose only he wouldn’t be getting the release of death from it._

_Having heats was so much easier to buckle down on back when he still had his father around. His father who would breathe down his neck if he thought someone knew the truth._

_Oliver feels his face flush, Tommy breaking his thought process, and having him realise he’s holding the other’s hands. Tommy doesn’t retract away._

_“I still don’t know.”_

_Bitting back a snarl, Oliver’s almost to the point of grabbing a random Alpha off the streets if Tommy won’t help him._

_“I have spent every one of my heats alone, and those I didn’t weren’t spent being rutted,” Oliver confessed, prying for the Alpha’s sympathises._

_It wasn’t a total lie, not a whole truth either._

_Tommy visibly pales. Maybe he wanted to ask ‘why’, but refrains from doing so, probably having heard enough of Oliver’s secrets for one day._

_“Okay,” Tommy weakens, smiling glassy-eyed._

xxxxxxxx

_“Right here?”_

_“Yeah, right here,” Oliver confirms, half-stumbling down the steps into the basement, pulling Tommy along behind him._

_Turning around, Oliver quickly claims Tommy's mouth unrelentingly. The Alpha smells like leather interiors and warm amber, Tommy’s scent—one that he’s grown up around his whole life smelling, never seemingly affected by._

_Until now when Oliver was wild with heat and need, hauling the other downstairs too eager to wait._

_Tommy makes a muffled groan, back slamming into the wall as the Omega pins him there. Oliver silences any notion of noise from him, lips grazing over his own while the Omega’s hands settled on his collarbone._

_His hands were rough on Tommy’s torso, kneading into his skin, yet his lips were soft. Those years without Oliver had been harsh, and it makes the realisation of what’s happening now all the more real._

Forget about Laurel.

_The warmth of Oliver’s mouth sends tingles throughout his body, Tommy pushing back against him, fisting the other’s sweater up to bring him impossibly closer. Their heads bump lightly, Tommy opening his eyes momentarily while Oliver claws at his shoulders and neck._

Oliver needs you.

_He’s barely finding time to breathe, Oliver being invasive and dominant all at once, as he allows deeper passage into his mouth. His knees nearly buckle as Oliver slides his tongue over his own, hands readily moving from Tommy’s shoulders to his shirt buttons._

_Pulling back swiftly from the kiss, Oliver puts his full attention into undoing the Alpha’s shirt. An erection was already beginning to tent at his pants; Oliver couldn’t wait much longer, stretching parts of the fabric in his haste to undo it._

_“I noticed that,” Tommy says out of the blue, shrugging out of his shirt._

_Oliver looked at him dumbfounded while in the process of tugging his own shirt off.  He’s already growing hard too, knowing Oliver will possibly skip all elements of foreplay just so he can be knotted._

_“What?” Oliver panted; skin prickling as he brushed out of his clothing._

_He shivered, heat intensifying every sensation he had with a burning desire. Discarding his shirt, Oliver waltzed back over to Tommy, still by the wall._

_He goes to wrap his arms around Tommy’s neck when the Alpha halts him, stopping his advance tenderly. “Your scars,” Tommy whispered, looking gingerly downward as if afraid the Omega might bite his head off for it._

_Oliver visibly cringes, having forgotten the severity of what his chest looked like. Every scar a visual reminder of the hell he had to endure on the island. A past that wouldn’t stay buried._

_It was never much of an issue before, partly because he’d avoided that sort of intimacy and when he didn't-or couldn't-the lights were down, his partners couldn't care less. The last person he’d gotten that sort of a reaction from had been Thea, who’d immediately been out for the truth as well._

_“Not right now,” Oliver pleads, slick beginning to glide down his inner thighs._

_Tommy’s moved from the wall now, studying the mars and tattoos that littered his body._

_Tommy cautiously places a hand on his bicep where a large scar runs its length. Its texture is softer than the hardened muscle there. Oliver meets the Alpha’s eyes where he looked back at him solemnly._

_“I would never hurt you,” Tommy assured._

_The Alpha’s touch was attentive on his body, easy, and Oliver nods briefly giving him further permission to trace his damaged flesh. Every brush of Tommy’s skin against his own sent Oliver’s insides wild, natural lubricant dripping out of him. Grabbing Tommy’s hand he leads him over to the table, the only one not occupied by his weapons and Hood arsenal._

_“I trust you,” Oliver whispered, pulling the Alpha’s hand to rest over his stomach._

_Tommy’s growls at him, nudging him backwards onto the cool, stainless steel, with which he willingly complies. Lying back, Oliver writhes slightly, as Tommy makes for his waistband, unzipping them. When Tommy looks up at him again, as if asking permission, he can only nod vigorously in return._

_“Stop asking, just go,” Oliver bites out, the Alpha now ungraciously tugging his jeans down._

_Sure, Tommy was showing a lot more courtesy and restrain than the Alphas Oliver was used to, but he doesn't really care about that right now. He lifts his lower back, allowing Tommy better leverage to pull his denim down, sticky from his body’s natural preparation._

_Finally kicking his pants off at the heels, Tommy’s arms quickly snaked around his back, pulling him into the other’s grasp. His shorts were damp, chilled against the rest of his fiery body, though Tommy doesn’t seem to mind._

_It was a different experience for Oliver, letting someone hold him again, though not an unwelcome one. Exhaling heavily, he tried to let himself relax in his friend’s hold, while the Alpha’s hands danced over his spine, knowing the other meant him no harm._

_His heat might have been scorching every inch of his skin with sensitivity, but that didn’t mean he was going to give into those urges easily._

_Oliver lets out a whine unexpectedly, the Alpha necking him at the nape as he gripped at the contours of Tommy’s back in return._

_He ground his teeth to silence himself, Tommy chuckling in response as he nipped softly at Oliver’s collarbone. Oliver retorted by grinding his hips up against the Alpha’s erection, enticing moans from both of them. Tommy straddles his hips roughly, pushing him back onto the table, steadily rocking beneath them. His teeth grated hard over the tendons in Oliver’s neck, having the Omega hook his legs up over the Alpha’s back in response._

_“You know what you’re doing?” Oliver huffed, letting Tommy draw back from him and onto his haunches. Legs still locked around Tommy, the Alpha began to make short work of his belt and pants before Oliver detached from him, letting him toss the fabric aside._

_“Yeah, I’ve done this before,” Tommy finally responded._

_Oliver leans up on his forearms, body clenching itself in expectation for what it thought was about to happen. Or really, what Tommy better deliver on if he didn’t want an arrow in him for leading Oliver on._

_In the past, he and Tommy had done their fair share of mucking around, though never with each other. Malcolm had always been displeased with Tommy’s taste in Omegas, stating that Rebecca would never have approved of any of them. This eventually led him to pull males into his bed too, where Oliver was careful to do exactly the opposite—being not that._

_So it doesn’t surprise Oliver when Tommy looks at him, eyes filled with foreign knowledge, before he dragged Oliver’s boxers down his length. Easing the jocks down to uncover Oliver’s rigid erection. The Omega bucks up beneath him when Tommy ghosts his hands over the other’s arousal. Using one hand to attempt to rid the rest of Oliver’s boxers, the other lightly stroked over Oliver’s length, making him wail with need._

_Finally freed of his clothing entirely, Oliver fists his hands up into Tommy’s hair, pulling the Alpha down towards his pelvis. Linking his legs around the other’s neck, he narrowly avoids kicking Tommy in the head when he goes down on him. Curled up against his stomach, his cock tightened in the moist of Tommy’s mouth. Tommy was slow and gentle with him, keeping a constant rhythm that was enough to keep Oliver interested, without driving him crazy with need._

_Oliver whined when Tommy stopped attending him, diverting his attention to his now weeping hole. Poking inside him lightly with a finger, Oliver’s muscles burned lightly at the unfamiliarity of it all. His biology welcomed it though, relaxing shortly after to allow the Alpha further passage. Biting his lip, the Omega’s eyes met Tommy’s._

_“You going to slick yourself much more for me or not, buddy? Betas produce more lube than you do,” Tommy laughed, carefully probing inside Oliver’s entrance._

_Oliver was supposed to be in heat, and although male, he wasn’t being given much lubricant to work with here._

_“I guess next time I’m bringing the lube then,” Tommy finishes for himself, when Oliver only mewls in response._

_“Ah,” Oliver groans, as Tommy pushes another digit inside him, “too much testosterone likely.”_

_Tommy brushes over his prostate, making him twitch from the fingers and toes. Pushing around gently, Tommy makes to feel for the Omega’s secondary tract—the only sure way he’d trust male Omegas from Betas. Above Oliver’s prostate, there’s a channel in the flesh that no doubt leads to organs not found in other males._

_Chuckling, Tommy’s not surprised to find the entry closed, tight beyond anything. At least Oliver was playing it safe, though he wouldn’t have been able to Bond with him anyway._

_Fluid begins to leak from Oliver’s cock, the Alpha increasing his fingering motions in a quick bout of preparation. Oliver knows the average Omega should never need artificial lube; it was usually reserved for Alphas that weren’t expected to be on the receiving end of sex. Not having sex for several years on the island had possibly dented the intensity of his heats, and his estrogen levels were probably disgustingly low._

_Not that Oliver Queen could ever be considered the nurturing type in the first place._

_“Omegas are supposed to have a hard time packing on muscle, and by god you’re ripped,” Tommy states, and Oliver’s not sure whether to take it as a compliment or not._

_Tommy removes his fingers from him, Oliver feeling a small sense of loss which quickly fades as the Alpha slips off the table and strips out of his shorts._

_Oliver nearly growled, Tommy was hard over him._

_“Turn over, it will make this easier for both of us,” Tommy advised, winking at him._

_Rolling his eyes, Oliver willingly complied, turning over and laying his upper body down flat. Leaving his haunches up in the air, the Omega supported himself by his hands and knees. Flinching, Oliver feels the Alpha lie a hand over his back, rubbing him firmly._

_“Relax, I won’t hurt you,” Tommy assures, moving his hands to Oliver’s hips._

_Swallowing around the growing lump in his throat, Oliver gives Tommy a nod, glancing back at him. Releasing a yelp, Oliver’s happy he’s half-lying down when Tommy buries himself up to the hilt inside him. Tommy kneads circles softly into his sides while giving Oliver time to adjust to the no doubt new sensation of being filled by an Alpha. Oliver rocks his hips warily, testing the waters, while Tommy inhales deeply, taking in his pheromones._

_Pushing back against the Alpha, Oliver moaned as Tommy drew back from him before sliding in again with added force. The mere motion of it sent sparks shooting through his insides. It helped him disregard the feeling of his knees and elbows scraping against the steel table with every thrust, pain clouded over by his lust-induced state._

_On the small of his back, Tommy massages, easing the process for both of them as Tommy picks up speed. Oliver draws in a sharp intake of breath, Tommy hitting his prostate continually, already stimulated from earlier probing._

_His cock draws impossibly tighter against his abdomen, Tommy growling in response to his obvious pleasure. Oliver almost manages to fist up his hardened length, but having his hand crooked, upside-down and coordination gone to shit, he can't grasp it without vastly changing his position._

_It doesn't matter regardless, sensation still coiling in the pit of his stomach, a taut spring ready to come undone. Tommy howled behind Oliver, still vigorous in his thrusts, as his hips began to lock up, preparing to knot the Omega._

_His knot swelled, ready to sate Oliver’s heat, as the other contracted beneath him lightly. Oliver cried out in pleasure, clenching around Tommy’s cock, as he came in thick, white ropes._

_The Omega shuddered, slumping forward when Tommy slowed to accommodate him as much as possible, with his own knot than locking deep inside Oliver. Gracelessly, Tommy slumped forward onto Oliver as much as his body would allow it. Now spent and exhausted, Oliver could feel his muscles unwinding, even with Tommy leaking fluid inside him._

_Later on he’d had to clean the table before Dig or Felicity showed up, but at least he knew he wouldn’t have to avoid them for days like the plague. Heat now fading from his system, Oliver goes to tilt his head over his shoulder and thank the Alpha, before demanding he get off him. Though Tommy is for the most part collapsed on top of him, his eyes closed and his arms sprawled over the rest of Oliver, energy obviously spent._

_Oliver chortles, prepared to wait out Tommy’s knot so he can throw him off._

_They might have done it again, but they’d never get the chance to._

xxxxxxxx

“Barry, what’s wrong with him? He still isn’t improving?”

It’s been several minutes since they’d gotten the Warfarin into Oliver’s system and Felicity was beginning to worry. Not only was Oliver still unconscious, but his movement had picked up and became jittery. Dig might have been content to take both eyes off Oliver and begin narrowing down an identity on their sedative-thief, but not her—she needed to make sure…

Make sure Oliver was still teetering closer on the edge of life than death.

Barry, who they’d managed to catch—or abduct—from the train station in the nick of time, was seated across from her. Her fellow Beta bites at his nails while contemplating a response.

“It’s not the Warfarin, at least, I don’t think it is,” Barry stutters out, getting up stiffly from his seat.

Pacing the vicinity of their makeshift medical centre setup, he flashes a small torch in Oliver’s eyes.

“His pupils are no longer dilated, so the rat poison likely worked. Unless he’s got high blood pressure or a peptic ulcer—” Barry stops, Felicity looking at him morbidly, “both of which I highly doubt, he wouldn’t be the Arrow if he did. So Warfarin shouldn’t cause him to react this way, except maybe the sweating—but that’s not life-threatening!” 

Barry smiles warmly at her and Felicity knows she could be overreacting, no one else seemed as worked up right now as she was. Dig sparks behind her too though when Oliver groans from the table. Barry goes to step away politely, but isn’t quick enough when Oliver seizes up his neck fiercely. Rushing over, Barry hacks in Oliver’s grasp before Felicity and Diggle can pry him away.

Oliver groans, flopping back down for a moment before springing onto his feet. He still looks like half a wreck, but that doesn't stop him from turning hostile very quickly. For a moment he sways on his feet, gripping the table for support, and although not hurrying to help him, Felicity has to ask.

“Are you alright, Oliver?”

She’s attentive, hoping to pacify him, yet Oliver lashes out at the young Beta again anyway.

“Just fine, Felicity. Though I’d feel better if I could put an arrow in him,” Oliver hisses, turning back to face Barry.

Before Tommy died, he’d never been latent in protecting his secret. Why’d he have to go thinking about his late friend again anyway? It was bad enough he’d thought about him during that  _intense_  fever dream but…

This situation looked dire enough that he could break that oath again without too much lamenting on it.

_God, I feel like shit._

Oliver’s skin was overheated and everything still ached from earlier, yet he managed to drown out Felicity and Diggle’s white noise, in favour of seething at the young scientist. Barry visibly swallows in front of him, and he should, if he had his bow and quiver on him…

The Beta loosens in front of him though, and Oliver knows all too late, from the expression on his face that he’s only received once before.

“Mister Queen—you’re an Omega?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, I mentioned Helena never knotting Oliver, no? Is this implying Alpha females have dicks? Yes, if Omega males have ovaries, it seems just as plausible Alpha females have a retractable penis tucked up inside them.


	2. One Simple Task

_Oh boy._

Well, Oliver could deny it, though the scent masking had obviously been stripped away. No thanks to how sticky his pores were. Admitting it was worse though, especially in the face of a potential threat. Not just on the Vigilante front though, Betas and Alphas were always a potential uncertainty for an Omega during their heat.

Oliver snorts towering over the young Beta.

That’s not just one, but two secrets he’s had slip out today. First his identity, then his dynamic.

At this rate he wouldn’t have any privacy left before midnight. His life may have been in danger though there were always alternatives to otherwise outright revealing The Arrow’s identity. From his partners’ earlier rambling, it sounded like it had been Felicity’s idea to bring Barry into this.

Barry quivers under his gaze, no doubt regretting his stray observation. Dig and Felicity haven’t made a noticeable move to do anything yet, likely processing this new information.

“No, Barry. I’m just so intimidating; I need to wear Omega’s cologne to make sure people don’t think I’m constantly going to—” Oliver bristles, walking Barry backwards into a table.

“Oliver!” Felicity yells, cutting him off, stepping in between them.

She slams a palm into his chest making sure he gets the message to back off.

Oliver winces lightly, jacket undone and no longer shielding his bruised ribcage.

It was really starting to irk him how much Felicity felt the need to defend this Beta. Were they together now and he simply didn’t get the memo?

“I don’t get it,” Barry gapes.

Neither does Oliver because Barry Allen doesn’t seem to be able to defend himself from an Omega, granted one that defied most stereotypes.

“Oh no, it makes sense all right!” Felicity cries, throwing her hands up in the air and turning on him.

Barry makes an effort to slink away in Oliver’s distraction, moving out of the crossfires.

“You PHS big time!” Felicity accuses, poking a finger at Oliver who frowns instantly.

She knows she’s hit a nerve because Oliver grows quiet for a moment. His expression quickly mimics her own though, turning to irritation.

“Just because I’m the only one who seems to care about  _my_  identity getting out around here, does not mean I have preheat syndrome!”

An accurate dynamic to The Arrow wasn’t good either; Beta males would a messy category to navigate, many of them living within the city, but Omegas would be far more slim pickings for the police to dig through.

Not that anyone at the police department could have confirmed Oliver’s dynamic, Barry could though and those were both details he didn’t just want anybody having.

“Felicity—” Dig spoke, trying to keep the two from each other’s throats.

Neither of them were in the right here, Oliver keeping secrets from everyone was no more surprise than usual though. Oliver not feeling like he could tell them about his dynamic stung Dig a little. Then again, he had also waited months to hear Oliver say anything about what happened to him on the island.

Dig makes sure to give Barry a discerning look when the Beta plonks down next to him. It meant stay put. Oliver may have been blowing a fuse but if Barry looked too much like he was running off, Dig would pull him back.

Despite the pheromones Oliver was unconsciously emitting, the young Beta didn’t seem interested.

_Probably wouldn’t know what to do with an Omega like that._

Oliver and Felicity don’t seem to have noticed a word Diggle’s said as they continued to bicker.

“Barry saved your life; you could at least try and be thankful!”

“What if he leaves here and goes straight to the police? He has more than enough information to—”

“He wouldn’t do that, you know that. He practically worships the ground The Arrow walks on, though I don’t see why,” Felicity admits, rolling her eyes.

Barry looks taken aback off to the side, his fixation having probably lessened after being threatened by said vigilante.

“Guys, can we just—”

Dig doesn’t get to finish though as a ringing goes off in the room.

Felicity and Oliver’s arguing ceases for a moment, all eyes looking around for the intrusive noise. Oliver sighs, appearing to cool down for a moment, reaching for his phone. Frowning, he flips it over, finding a message from his mom there. Something was possibly up as he hadn’t been out all night and usually she was more latent in her attempts to pull him home.

“I have to go home,” Oliver says, thankful when nobody pushes the conversation any further.

He’d have to settle for throttling Barry later. His mother would continue to pester him with texts and calls if he stayed out much longer.

Shooting the scientist one last nasty look, Oliver goes to leave when Diggle catches him by the arm.

“Are you going to be okay?” Dig asks, Oliver barely having to think to know what he’s implying.

Oliver resists the urge to stiffen and brush his friend off.

Being an Omega did  _not_  make him fragile and no one should treat him any differently now that they knew. Except maybe the Barry kid, but his opinion didn’t matter because he could still be disposed of, if necessary.

“I’ll be fine Dig,” Oliver assures, “I didn’t just become an Omega yesterday.”

Dig retreats from him as he hobbles slightly to a cabinet by the stairs, body still aching from the beating he’d taken.

If he was going to go home and didn’t expect to get the nasty surprise of everyone else suddenly knowing his dynamic, he would need the scent neutraliser. Oliver grabs it, where the cans of it stocked the shelves; some of them adequately disguised Beta sprays he wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of concealing anymore.

The latter probably wouldn’t work in this situation and he’d just have to hope no one asked at home why his scent was oddly non-existent. Betas weren’t that potent to begin with, so the scent neutraliser should mask his pheromones but not all the other tell tales signs that were just starting to rack his body.

Oliver hopes Thea is not up in the club for some reason. It’s not like her to come into work early, but he doesn’t need to cold-shoulder anyone else for the moment, least of all his little sister. He’s nearly out of the basement when he hears a comment from Barry, hushed over and probably not expecting him to notice.

“I’ve never seen an Omega that scary before!”

Oliver resists the urge to go back down and strangle him.

xxxxxxxx

When Oliver arrives home, he lets out a sigh of relief, no one accosting him at the door when he lets himself in. Or looking at him oddly. It might be winter, but he’d redressed himself at Verdant slightly on the heavier side to preferably conceal how flushed his skin looked, and how he was just itched to be— _nope_.

Oliver quickly sweeps that thought process under the rug.

Luckily all of the house staff were made up of Omegas and Betas—Alphas usually not ones for housework or domestic work—otherwise he could potentially be resisting the urge to throw himself at their feet later on.

Right now, he just wanted to go upstairs, lock himself up in his room and wait out his heat for the next twenty-four hours. Likely less, but better to be safe than sorry as Oliver’s discovered. Slinking away without announcing his return though meant Moira would come looking for him eventually, so it would be best to confront her now rather than later about why she’d wanted him home so suddenly.

Moira’s decorating a Christmas tree when she spots him and she looks in almost as much distress as he inwardly feels. Her eyes are glossed over and she looks like she’s been pinning. Maybe she’d found out he had contact with Walter, her last Bond-mate, in reseizing the family company. It wasn’t uncommon for Bond-mates to yearn for one another, even after they’d broken their ties, not that Oliver would personally know that.

_Please, don’t be that._

It was months ago, but he’d been wrong about how ruthless his mother could be in the past. He lets himself relax from cringing inside when she smiles at him and thanks him for coming home. Her Omega scent soothes over him calmingly when she places her hands around his forearms. It makes him wish that he could bring himself to tell her te truth about his own dynamic.

But he knows he won’t.

“Is everything alright?” Oliver asks, again relived when she doesn’t pull him into an embrace and potentially notice how clammy his hands are.

He had maybe half a dozen hours max before he would be doubled over in pain completely.

It was possibly time to start scoping out potential Alphas if he didn’t want to be spending the rest of his life until menopause in agony. Isabel Rochev comes to mind first, but she would probably still steal his father’s company should he grow lax enough about it.

“Well, I don’t know,” Moira says almost sarcastically, “your sister has locked herself in her room and she won't talk to me.”

She’s obviously somewhat distraught and Oliver wonders if she’s done something to possibly upset Thea that she would rather not mention.

“Don't worry, I'll talk to her,” he bites out, even though he too wants to avoid everyone and just lock himself up in his room.

Oliver politely excuses himself, almost wanting to bolt up the stairs and get this over with as quickly as possible.

xxxxxxxx

Coaxing Thea out of her room had gone well, though Oliver had to resist the urge to growl at the Beta and Omega she was hiding out in there with.

He might have put in arrow in one of them, for which he should be excused of—heat stirring within his body, irritability was to be expected—though he'd still deny the PHS. Oliver just wanted to pry Roy off his back, not have him in his house, where he should logically tear his head off for being in his sister's room.

Omega's could be protective like that, even of potential other Alphas, who were usually more than capable of taking care of themselves.

How had his mother not noticed Roy and the Omega female Thea had hidden away in her room?

Thea’s Alpha scent must have masked her hidden company well, even he didn’t know until she had showed him into her room.

With that issue out of the way, Oliver lets himself into his own bedroom. He avoids locking it, content with his ability to scent anyone out before they’d enter the room, lest he want to seem suspicious.

Another ability he’d honed to perfection on the island.

Mainly, he avoided barricaded and bolting the door to avoid ending up in the same situation Thea was just in. If it gets too crowded in the mansion he can always go back to Verdant, and kick everyone else out of the basement.

Everyone else…

People that now knew he was an Omega.

It felt so surreal knowing he wouldn’t have to hide it from his partners anymore. Another truth that was painful to pry from him but elating to let someone know again. They were few people still alive that knew about his dynamic. Sara knows, though Oliver can’t be certain he’ll ever see her again. Shado and Slade had known, though he’d never been very forth-coming about it with them.

They were both dead yet, and it almost amazes him how everyone he seems to let in on his secrets ends up dead.

Oliver sits down on the floor cross-legged, in an attempt to meditate some of his bodily pain away and push his unexpected thought processes aside. Drowning out the pain of his battered body was easy enough; the heat sensation wouldn’t die of as effortlessly though. There was only one thing that could truly rid him off it.

 _No_ , he didn’t have to fall prey to his biology this time.

Oliver had only ever wholesomely weakened just the once, let someone else see the cracks in his visage, and it had been Tommy. Whom he’d known for his whole life.

Although Tommy could never have been his, the Alpha still loved Laurel, Oliver doesn’t know if he can let himself be vulnerable in front of someone like that again. Especially when he just keeps on losing people.

His mother had lost her first Bond-mate, granted she’d still had Malcolm Merlyn around to likely soothe that grief.

That would not be him.

Oliver doesn’t know if he can take losing anyone else again, not after his best friend, let alone an Alpha he cared about. Beta males were viable mates as well, though he’d still be suffering though his heats then as Betas didn’t possess knots.

Steeling his resolve, Oliver knows he can endure this heat alone—just like he’s always done. His breathing hitches when he feels his stomach roll with nausea.  _Ugh_ , this heat was going to be horrid though.

Going three months on suppressants, rather than the common Omega monthly, seemed amazing in theory, until he had to deal with usually a consequently more intense heat for putting it off. Back on the island his cycles had slowed down too, likely a by-product of combined stress and survival instinct. Naturally, they’d probably be anything but regular now with all his extra vigilante activities, but it would be stupid of him to not try and at least manage them somehow.

Oliver peeks an eye open when he hears someone fumbling with the doorknob. _Alpha_ , their scent tells him, mingled with a Beta’s. He lightens up when only Dig walks in, invited here in the first place by him to patch up Roy. Dig’s in a suit, looking awfully maintained in his presence, and Oliver wonders if this is his queue to apologize for his earlier miniature meltdown.

“If Felicity sent you to chew me out about not telling you guys the truth, well you’re not the only ones,” Oliver half-atones, apology coming out badly but he tried all the same.

Still lying on the floor, he groans softly, having his concentration broken and pain wracking at him again.

“Nobody knows you’re an Omega?” Dig blinks at him, catching on to what his words meant, composure loosening.

The scent neutralizer as The Arrow made sense to Diggle, albeit illegal—to completely mask one’s dynamic so thoroughly without apparent reasoning—and difficult to get one’s hands on. Not telling even his family that he was an Omega didn’t add up, especially when Oliver wasn’t in a workforce like the military where Omegas were usually frowned upon.

“Nope, an expensive array of Beta-suited colognes masks my scent, and no one really bats an eyelid at it. My scent has never been that potent to begin with, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry like you saw today earlier,” Oliver responds, though not revealing much Dig hasn’t already gathered.

Dig knows he shouldn’t continue to pry after Oliver’s given him such a flat answer, but there just didn’t seem to be any reason behind him wanting to hide such a secret.

Especially seeing as he was Oliver Queen, who could likely have whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

“Were you ever going to tell Felicity and I?” Dig asked, his voice sincere and not overly intrusive.

“That would also be implying that everyone else knew though. If I was to suddenly reveal myself to the public tomorrow, considering my lack of a mate—or even a consistent girlfriend at this stage—I’d likely end up like the mayor’s daughter, the old one. Alphas and Betas throwing themselves at my feet, no doubt for the money, which I already get enough of as it is,” Oliver admits, not sounding too keen on the idea.

“You wouldn’t be fine with just marrying another Omega?” Dig queried, knowing Oliver had no doubt dated his fair share of every dynamic.

Although the possibility of Bonding and procreation was fairly non-existent, society had become a lot more accepting in the last few centuries of same-dynamic couples. Outside of Betas who were fine reproducing either way among themselves.

“Diggle, even if that’s what  _I_ wanted, that’s not entirely how it works. My family will expect an heir, preferably a maternal one if they knew they could get it. Thea’s an Alpha, so that’s out of the question.”

Not to mention his sister’s current boyfriend was a Beta, so Moira wouldn’t be getting anywhere with grandchildren there fast.

“If I came out to my mom, she would possibly try to chaperone me off to an Alpha immediately,” Oliver sighed.

His mother wouldn’t be in the wrong trying to do the former; she likely wanted to make sure her family was financially secure and happy in order for her inevitable retirement, which was practically happening. Now more than ever, considering she just got off trial for murder. Oliver has to stress the last part in his mind though,  _happy_.

He would not be happy in the least to be primed like a princess for courtship.

“Well, she wouldn’t have to do that right away. Your mother should understand if you want to wait,” Dig reassures, knowing Moira would likely still be quite vigilant regardless.

He’d never understood the wealthy ones unusually old-fashioned ways, even before he was in the social security division. They usually only seemed to marry into more wealth and based their courtships on one’s status, rather than emotional commitment to one another.

“I’m twenty-eight, I’m likely already past my prime fertility, and will probably hit menopause by time I’m late thirties.”

Fingers-crossed he did, menopause would mean only twenty-or-so more heats, if Oliver was lucky, then he’d be done for good.

“That early, hmm?”

“Yeah, the public shuns over a lot of the details, but the average Omega male will hit menopause before a Beta will. Omegas don’t usually ever see a drastic drop in their prolificacy like Betas do, so I’ve got that going for me though.”

Diggle goes quiet, Oliver’s intimate relationships none of his concern, unless Oliver wanted them to be.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Did you just come into my room to ask questions?” Oliver asks, getting up from the floor.

He was slightly annoyed at being disturbed. Having an Alpha, albeit one who was distinctly seeing someone else, in his presence at this time caused an uneasy feeling to settle in his stomach. He shakes it off though, knowing he can trust Diggle.

If circumstances proved he couldn’t, well he could always adequately defend himself.

For the moment.

“Felicity’s got a hit on Cyrus Gold, a motel,” Dig explained.

“Who’s Cyrus Gold?”

“The human weapon that would have left you for dead if not for Barry Allen—”

They still had the young Beta with them down at Verdant, so best Oliver get used to it sooner rather than later. Oliver seems to get the point though as he cuts Dig off.

“Alright, I get it. Kid’s okay. You got the location so I can put an arrow in this guy,” Oliver exclaims, eager to get back at the one who’d left him so battered in the first place.

“Oliver, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think you should even think about going anyway near this guy in your condition. In a couple hours you probably won’t even be able to stand,” Dig advises, seeing his words go unheard as Oliver collects himself and looks to make a move for the door.

“Dig, I’m fine okay. I have time, a couple hours at least, before my heat really kicks in.”

Oliver might have stressed the amount of time he has _slightly_ , but his desire to put down their serum thief, outweighed the inconvenience of it all brought on by his heat.

“Are you sure?” Dig asks, watching Oliver reach for the door, knowing he couldn’t talk his friend out of this.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful this time. This time I won’t be walking into a warehouse full of sedatives either.”

xxxxxxxx

Oliver manages to escape Verdant only several minutes before Thea’s shift should be starting. It’s still deserted though, so he’s guessing she’s probably phoned all the staff in advance that they wouldn’t be open today. No thanks to him putting an arrow in her boyfriend. So her most trusted worker and her were out of commission for the time being, but it works out in his favour.

After dealing with Cyrus Gold, he’ll probably haul out in the basement to wait out his heat like he’s often done in the past.

He’d reapplied the scent blocker twice so far just to make sure everyone would stop gawking at him.

Barry had also managed to become surprisingly more annoying, if that was possible. Making comments about his attire and about how amazed he was to see such a combat proficient Omega. It’d barely been two hours and already the Beta had recovered from being on the end of his slight outburst.

Or maybe his passion for The Vigilante just extended beyond his fear of Oliver Queen.

Oliver had gotten out of their quickly though, only waiting around to suit up and retrieve the address from Felicity before darting out. His skin was still prickling in irritation, but he was able to fight through it thinking about how much worse this threat would get if left unattended. So far they still had no leads either as to who this Cyrus Gold was tracing back to.

Going into a lone crouch, Oliver surveys the lone window to the hotel.

The man’s current hideout was fitted next to several flights of fire escape stairs, so he’d be able to breech the building without having to make for the roof.

Under the cover of darkness, Oliver makes his move, swiftly jumping from one rooftop to grapple onto the stairway. The iron clatters as he collides with it, noise pronounced, though not much more than what crashing through the window would have been.

At least his entry looks discreet this way.

Oliver grits his teeth, muffling a groan as a pang of pain stabs him in the gut. His biology obviously did not agree with him parkouring around at this current stage. Battling through the pain that didn’t want to leave him, he makes for the window, prying it open easily enough. It was without a latch, like most of the older buildings in the Glades.  

Oliver slipped in through it soundlessly, padding in his boots silencing his fall on the carpet. He pulled his bow off his back, gripping it in his left hand.

The first thing he noticed was how seemingly unoccupied the place was. A bed against the wall was made up to perfection, tables and counters with nothing of significance on them to symbolise anyone ever living here. Their thief either didn’t come home a lot or hadn’t been here for very long.

Possibly both.

He inhaled deeply. There was minimal scent in the room that was telling him anything either. The most vital scent that he needed, he catches too late. It was closing in on him,  _Alpha_.

Oliver winces when the super soldier’s arm slams into his side. He recoils, dropping to the floor, though the pain isn’t much severer than what it was back in the bunker.

All of his ribs were hopefully still intact. If not, nothing worse than what he’s had to deal with on the island.

“I thought I killed you, now you come back for more?” Cyrus scoffs, walking over to where he’s still noticeably cringing.

 _Not good._  Although the pain was becoming more manageable, his body’s protesting was not. Telling Oliver to stay down and cradle his wounds. Submit to the Alpha in hopes they would spare him.

 _No_ , he was not that weak.

Or so he thought.

Finally grasping his bow up from the floor, Cyrus clenches him by the back of the neck. Fisted up by the back of his hood, Oliver’s face grates against the carpet when Cyrus throws him back into it.

So weak, he was so pathetic.

If only he could get to the transmitter tucked away in his hood, where his chest was being pressured into the floor.

Could Diggle get here in time, before Cyrus finished him?

Oliver flails weakly, smacking his bow into the man’s side.

There’s nothing, not even a grunt in response to say the guy felt it. Cyrus pushes down on him imposing, Oliver now barely able to see anything outside of the carpet and the darkness shrouding him from his hood.

“My brother will be most pleased; perhaps he would like to kill you himself?” Cyrus chides as Oliver’s attempts at scuffling back at him go seemingly unnoticed.

“You can go to hell,” Oliver spits back, voice coming out a lot deeper than normal due to the voice filter he used.

He feels his arms and legs only grow sore as Cyrus brushes off everything he has left in him like it’s nothing.

At least if Cyrus wasn’t going to kill him now he might be able to make an attempt at getting the siren off down at Verdant. Right now though, Cyrus still had him pinned and Oliver was more concerned with defending himself from further assault.

“Don’t worry; you won’t be in your misery—” Cyrus growls, leaning down close to his face, as close as he possibly could go without noticing who Oliver is, before the man stops, recoiling.

Oliver wants to have another go at him, defending his sorry ass, however decides against it to conserve his strength until it looks like he’ll be able to make a solid getaway. Which wouldn’t be happening now as Cyrus only presses down on him again, drawing in sharply.

 _Oh shit_.

Had the scent blocker on him started to wane so soon, or did these super soldiers have some sort of enhanced sense of smell? His scent was probably growing stronger, so it was stupid of him— _stupid_ , to think an Alpha wouldn’t be able to notice his dynamic.

And impending heat.

When the other surprisingly eases up off him though, Oliver bolts to his feet, reaching for an arrow. It doesn’t last as before he can wheel around, Cyrus scuffs his legs out from underneath him. Oliver falls into the wall, letting his legs buckle as he watches the other. Cyrus has a phone in hand—a ghost phone, Oliver guessed—expression unreadable behind the black mask he wore.

“You stay there, strong Omega,” Cyrus warns, and Oliver almost chuckles when the Alpha referred to him as ‘strong’.

They never expected an Omega to fight, now did they?

Cyrus has backed off him; the phone must be ringing, because the Alpha brings it to his face.

Oliver glances over to the window, still intact from where it had dropped shut behind his entrance.

It was only a few feet away from him and Cyrus was blocking elsewhere, the doorway. He could make a run for it, preferably use the limbs of his bow to shatter most of the glass, and he wouldn’t have to go anywhere near the Alpha to make his escape. Cyrus keeps his eyes on him, but was far enough away that Oliver anticipated a possible escape.

It was a plan, now just to gather the strength and willpower to make it there.

xxxxxxxx

Sebastian Blood is going over his potential mayor campaigns when the ghost phone vibrates in his desk. He gives a quick glance around the darkened office, where he was obviously the only one left, just to be safe before going to pick it up. There was only three people that knew of the phone’s number, one of which he usually doesn’t expect such direct contact from.

Answering it, Sebastian is slightly relieved and slightly annoyed to find it’s only Cyrus. “Brother Cyrus, I trust you have good reason for calling,” he spoke, voice distinctly distorted on the other end of the phone.

Even though he was sure he was alone, they shouldn’t have been making such traceable contact with one another.

“Brother Blood, I have failed you—I did not kill The Vigilante as I had expected earlier.”

“You what? How could you have failed?”

Sebastian was flabbergasted.

The Vigilante was one man, a simple man, and Cyrus was a human weapon—it was ludicrous for the later to fail in such a simple task. His superior might not have been happy with these attempts Sebastian was having made on The Vigilante, but he was a possible threat to Sebastian as well.

He’d prefer not to have an arrow in him.

“Again, I apologize. I have him here though, an Omega. I thought you might like—” Cyrus states, but Sebastian cuts the Alpha off.

“Hang on, an Omega? The Starling City Vigilante is an Omega?”

Sebastian nearly laughs, this was… quite unexpected.

Everyone always theorized an ominous Alpha, or perhaps a well-secured Beta in life, but never an Omega. Maybe as another Beta he was being slightly sexist, but it was no wonder the police could never seemed to be able to catch the vigilante. The average Omega would never have such a skillset, refused military and most combat-related training. Which The Vigilante most certainly had in some shape or form.

“Yes, on verge of heat,” Cyrus confirmed, voice cold and not at all seeming like he was in the presence of a ready Omega.

The perfect solider, Sebastian had chosen him well.

“You were right to ring me, Brother. I want to know who this Omega is, the most dangerous Omega in Starling City,” Sebastian citied, most amused by this turn of events.

“I have him here at the Patricia Motel, Room 34, where I’m staying.”

“Good, leave him unharmed, for the most part. There is someone else who will be pleased to hear this. I will be there shortly, Brother Cyrus,” Sebastian finishes, ending the call abruptly.

He sits back down in his office chair, almost stunned.

An Omega… he wanted to find out who this great Omega was.

There’d been Omega criminals in Starling City before, Garfield Lynns and Barton Mathis were among the more notable ones. But the head honcho himself, an Omega?

Sebastian could only hope his boss would delight in the news as much as he did, picking up the phone again. He dialled another number, albeit coded, in the phone, becoming increasingly giddy as it rang.

The voice that picks up on the other end of the phone is husky and tight.

“This had better be important, Sebastian.”

Sebastian knows calling his superintendent might not have been the best idea, but Cyrus had The Vigilante trapped right where they needed him. Preferably to be interrogated, as there was no doubt the Omega had followers.

People who would also need to be put out of the picture if he was going to reclaim the city as he own.

“It’s The Vigilante. Cyrus told me he had been disposed of, but—” Sebastian started.

“And I told you not to confront The Vigilante. Don’t forget you too, Sebastian Blood, can be disposed of,” his boss reprimanded, ending with a growl.

“He’s fine. Brother Cyrus has his cornered, I’ve told him not to harm him any further.”

Sebastian doesn’t get much of a response except for a heavy exhale through the line.

“I’ll handle it, tell me what to do, and I’ll get it done,” Sebastian assured nervously, “an interrogation would be a good start, as I doubt he is not alone in his crusade. And get this, Cyrus tells me he’s an Omega. I wouldn’t have believed it either but Cyrus tells me he’s on the verge of a heat cycle.”

Sebastian wanted to laugh.

It was amazing what lengths The Vigilante wanted to go to do what he though was presumably keeping the city’s people safe. Even if it meant putting himself at the mercy of every Alpha in the city. It was almost surprising his biology hadn’t betrayed him so badly sooner.

The gruff voice on the phone doesn’t seem to find it as pleasing as Sebastian does though, the other hissing.

“Stupid!” his boss yelled, the Beta cringing even though he wasn’t able to see him.

“What, it’s no big deal. Cyrus used to be a preacher so he’ll keep hands off him, if you want—”

The Beta felt like he’d possibly go into hysterics, possibly accidently overstepping his boundaries with his superintendent.

“When and where, now?” the other barked.

“Patricia Motel. Apparently The Vigilante came there looking for Brother Cyrus. Whenever and wherever you want, Brother Cyrus and I can interrogate him.”

“No. You bring him to me, and do so discreetly. You don’t unmask him either, that is my pleasure alone. Preferably bring him here on your own.”

Sebastian lets out a sigh, knowing his boss likely didn’t want Cyrus to be seen in the vicinity of their headquarters, let alone around The Vigilante—an Alpha around an Omega. That means he’d have to manage The Vigilante on his own for some time. Depending on how weakened by his heat he was, that could be doable.

The possibility of a bloody nose was there, but he could always blame that on the fanatics abhorring the peace in Starling, if anyone asked.

“Alright, give me a couple hours, and I’ll have him in the basement,” Sebastian obligated.

“One hour. If Cyrus has him harmed seriously, it is you too who shall be held accountable.”

With that the call is ended and Sebastian sighs before going to call Brother Cyrus again.

xxxxxxxx

A minute or so into Cyrus’s phone call, Oliver decides it sounds bad. Whoever the Alpha was talking to had just been informed he was an Omega and Oliver did not want to stick around to see where this conversation was heading.

Tensing his muscles, they’re still sore and stiff but he’s steeled himself enough to possibly make for that window now. More seconds pass as Cyrus continues to have his gaze, for the most part, averted from him. The phone call sounded like it was finishing up and after that Oliver might not get another chance to escape. It had to be now.

It might have been cowardly for him to run away, but at this point he’d lost the fight. Staying now only meant he would die, or worse.

Facing the window, Oliver bolts for it, right as the Alpha sounds like he’s been hung up on.

His legs object his swift movements, yet he keeps the adrenaline pumping in them until he’s within reach of the window. It’s only a couple feet away, though it feels so much farther before the window comes within his arm’s length.

Using the limbs of his bow, Oliver spears one side of it through the glass’s surface, shattering most of it outwards. He lets it drop out of his hands as he dives through the window.

Breaking the glass beforehand made jumping through the glass-littered ledge less painful, no noticeable fragments piercing in through his hood. The fall is the most painful part, as he only haphazardly manages to grab onto the staircase when he makes the jump. By the bottom of one of the stairs, falling at least a solid meter or two.

The impact of it sends jolts through Oliver’s body. Cyrus has no doubt noticed him now, Oliver not even attempting a look upwards to check.

With a relatively loud  _clack_ , Oliver knows his bow has hit the ground. The limbs have probably survived so he’d still be able to use the thing, but he imagines the frailer sight might not have been as lucky. It would likely need replacing, yet his mind was far from thinking about his equipment getting broken.

He was not going to let that man get his hands on him, especially know that he knew from the sounds of it, Cyrus was going to do anything but kill him. The notion of it gives Oliver the resolve to let go from the railing he was holding onto.

He broke his fall into pieces, dropping a bit, and then clasping the railing to avoid hitting the concrete from such a height.

It’s an awkward procedure, though much preferable to what he imagines the Alpha will do to him, should he not make a move.

Bending his knees reduces the impact significantly when Oliver finally drops to the floor. Landing on the balls of his feet, the impact is still exhausting, and impossible for him to remain standing. He teeters to one side, allowing himself to drop. Using one arm, he tries to shield his head from hitting the ground directly, so he doesn’t end up seeing stars.

_Shit…_

Twitching his legs, Oliver finds the pain is mostly muscular—nothing broken, otherwise getting to his feet would have been excruciating. He hears Cyrus grunt behind him, obviously following his suit through the window. Leaving his bow, he begins to make a run for it, like he’s had to do so many times in the past on Lian Yu. His stomach cramps, body still intent on going in heat in spite of all the other pain he was in.

The struggle to resist his body’s natural cycle was so futile. It was like asking a freight train to derail, for no reason, from its intended destination.

 _Just a little longer_ , he only needed a little bit more time.

Rounding on the curb’s corner, Oliver makes for the transmitter in his jacket. Teeth digging into his lower lip, he tries to keep from screaming out in his apparent pain. Oliver fists up from the transmitter from his jacket only to find the device cracked, mangled plastic hanging out of it.

When Cyrus had been smashing his face into the floor, it must have been crunched to bits beneath him. In spite of its appearance, Oliver still gives the button a push. Nothing happened, it was beyond use.

He can only hope that before it was destroyed, the device had enough pressure on it to go off. Though he knows that’s unlikely.

Dig and Felicity recognizing his signal was on the move, via his boot tracker, was his only hope if Cyrus caught up to him. Even then, Oliver wasn’t sure if he could make it back to Verdant—or anywhere safe, for that matter, before he collapsed on his own.

The situation was growing direr by the second, but he’s taken enough turns through the streets now that he could no longer hears the super soldier’s steps impending behind him.

These parts of the Glades were thankful far less habitable, even months after the earthquake travesty, so Oliver manages to remain seemingly unseen as he darts into another alleyway.

It would not do well for his situation, or himself, if The Arrow was seen running through the streets frantically.

Oliver collapses onto a wall once he realises he’s hit a dead end. He’d better have lost Cyrus somewhere because this felt like as far as his body was going to let him go.

Panting out of exhaustion, Oliver notices his scent. It was strong, far too strong for his liking.

A siren’s call to all Alphas in the vicinity that he was in heat.

At the very least, an Omega’s heat pheromones did have the same effect on Alphas that the smell of an Omega or Beta’s tears did. Oliver wasn’t in the least bit aroused at the moment, so his scent would likely act as a pacifier rather than an aphrodisiac.

It was one of the reasons he’d managed to survive on Lian Yu, scent enticing but dulling at the same time to those who took notice.

Just to be safe, because he’d rather not have anyone notice him, crumpled over in the alleyway, he digs a small can out from his pocket. It was a much more portable form of the scent neutraliser.

Regardless of being close to heat or not, Oliver usually carried some of it on him when out prowling the streets. Quickly, he emptied the spray over his body, tossing its plain, unmarked can aside once done. Having settled the issue of his scent, he grows uneasy at being stranded in The Glades.

The scent neutraliser wouldn’t last forever, a lot less time than it usually would, now that he feels his skin begin to perspire.

Dig and Felicity would eventually come get him, but for now the alleyway felt unsafe. As an archer, he was used to being up in trees and on rooftops where he was less easy prey.

 _Ugh, should have grabbed the bow._  At least then he could have then made an attempt to grapple onto the rooftops, where it was a lot safer than the ground.

In a moment, he’d go back for it. Get up high and wait to be rescued, rather than stay there waiting for someone to just stumble upon him. Cyrus had no reason to take his bow, so it was likely still left there in between the buildings.

xxxxxxxx

Cyrus doesn’t pick up immediately when Blood rings him back. The line nearly goes out to the operator’s voice, no natural message bank set, when the Alpha answers.

“What took you so long?” Sebastian half-hisses.

“’Vigilante, he got away,” Cyrus grunts.

“How did he get out of your sight!” the Beta demands more than asks.

This was not good.

The boss expected The Vigilante, delivered to him within the hour and now Cyrus had just gone and let him get away. How it happened didn’t really matter, except that Sebastian would get the blame for failing in said task. He did not want to be on the end of his boss’s wrath when he didn’t get The Vigilante to him, in the next fifty-five minutes. Sebastian shivered just thinking about what sort of punishment he would get.

No, they still had time.

Cyrus remained quiet on the other end of the phone, awaiting further orders.

“Alright, he couldn’t have gone far. How close to heat was he?”

“Very, within the hour, I would expect.”

“Then scent him out! He couldn’t have gone far; he’s probably in the throes of pain right now!”

This was so stupid. Sebastian had told Cyrus to not heavily damage the Omega, not leave him well enough that he could still get away.

An Omega that was far tougher than it looked; he’d give The Vigilante that.

“His scent’s gone cold, Brother. Though it wasn’t very potent to begin with.”

The Beta just shakes his head. His superior wouldn’t like this, but The Vigilante had came back a second time to make another attempt on Cyrus Gold. This time he’d failed, so there was no doubt he’d be back again. That’s when they’d get him.

“Alright, leave it then. He’s possibly had his backup chuff him out of there,” Sebastian says before hanging up.

The phone remains in his hand though. There was no doubt it would better for him to tell his superintendent sooner rather than later that they’d lost The Vigilante. Much better to do so on his own terms than the other’s, when he inevitably found out.

Dialling again, he almost hopes the other won’t pick up. That hope is crushed when the man’s voice comes through the line, loud and clear.

“You have The Vigilante, I trust?”

The other’s voice was authoritative, exuding dominance.  _Alpha_ , he could tell without even needing to see him.

“There was a slight problem,” Sebastian began, “Brother Cyrus lost him. I would have told him to continue in his search, but apparently The Vigilante’s scent has gone cold.”

There’s silence over the phone, not even a heavy exhale to say that the Alpha was disappointed with him.

“Look, he’ll come back. The Vigilante always does, and when he does, we’ll get him. I promise,” Sebastian affirmed.

He’s half-surprised though when the line doesn’t go dead immediately.

“I’ll handle this,” the Alpha says before the line clicks off.

xxxxxxxx

It takes Oliver a lot longer than expected to get back to the motel. Hobbling in and out of the cover of darkness whenever a car siren went off or it sounded like someone was nearby. He was being cautious, possibly overly so, but when most people saw The Vigilante they usually didn't respond with hospitality.

If he hadn’t been half-limping on his aching leg too, it might have only taken him several minutes walking to get back there.

When he’d sprinted away from there earlier, it had barely taken him a minute to find the dead-ended alley he had to seek temporary refuge in. Granted, Oliver had the added benefit of a super solider Alpha on his tail to better motivate him to fight through his aches and bruises. It might have been stupid, to go back for his bow now. Dig and Felicity were possibly already on the way, both having advised him not to go in the first place.

Still, he’d already begun to make the journey back now and at least on a building, the tenseness of being spotted would leave him. Slick had begun to stain his pants, along with contractions wracking him, telling Oliver he was no doubt in the full throes of his heat. Everything was hot but the midnight air cooled around his face, easing how sweltering he felt.

Eventually, after what felt like forever and an infinite amount of time, his bow comes into sight. It was there, just where he’d left it—or dropped it. Still mosstly intact though not without some scrapes and imperfections from the long drop. However, someone else was also there. Standing only several feet away from him, bow trapped between them, was a man.

 _Alpha_ , his mind warned.

That wouldn’t usually pose a threat; the man was badly dressed and filthy, possibly homeless. But bruised and battered, Oliver was not up for combat, nor another bout of endurance running. The Alpha’s glazed over, perhaps shocked to see the owner of the weapon return for it.

Clutching a stich in his side, Oliver knows he doesn’t look the vigorous vigilante they always made him out to be. The man steps forward, moving towards him and Oliver instinctively takes one back. It doesn’t matter though as the man immediately collapses to the floor.

A pair of hands had wrapped around the Alpha’s neck, suddenly snapping it to one side. The man doesn’t even twitch when he hits the ground lifelessly. Oliver’s breathing hitches, as he feels himself go weak in the knees. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You’re not real. You can’t be here,” Oliver murmurs, the other possibly not even hearing him.

Not trusting his senses to know if this was just another fever dream, product of his heat, albeit more of a nightmare.

The man in front of him, although immaculately dressed, was Slade Wilson.

“Hello, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter of not getting as far as I would have liked. There’s not really a better place to cut it though, and the sex was always slated for Chapter 3.
> 
> Also, yes, it’s been scientifically proven that the ‘tears’ thing works. The smell of a female’s tears affects a man’s testosterone levels and somewhat dampens their sexual arousal.


	3. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flashback events here do divert from those shown in canon: _Tremors_ (2.12). Most of this was planned/written prior to it airing; things having been tweaked to suit the Omegaverse.
> 
> Also, I was wrong. Forewarning, there is no sex in this chapter, though the next chapter will definitely include it. One scene took up a far larger word count than originally intended and what I have here has been split into two parts.

Cyrus had gotten him, again, or he’d collapsed in the alleyway. He was obviously unconscious, and going into heat.  _Shit_ , he could be sleepwalking through the streets.

A nasty habit Oliver had picked up in the aftermath of coming back from the island. Yet he hadn’t done it in months. Or at least no one had caught him in the hallway, past midnight, yelling over things of the past. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

Heat cycles made everything worse though, always did.

This was just another dream, another he would have to work through. Preferably one Oliver didn’t remember when he came to, wherever the hell he was outside.

Maybe Dig and Felicity had him? That would mean at least somewhere he was safe.

Oliver glances away from Not-Slade, still standing there like he’s expecting a response.  Talking to his own imagination was stupid, he refrains from doing so. Especially when most of the thoughts running through his head were sirens and warning signals. Brushing those notions off was easy enough. Oliver did not run away anymore. Not when the odds were evened out, and he didn’t have to fight super solider Alphas in real life.

The Alpha in the alleyway that’s just flopped dead: a perfectly natural hallucination, in response to his desire to  _not_  get completely molested in the Glades. Or really anywhere at all.

Slade was a low blow for his mind to deal though, his biology seeming so thoroughly intent on punishing him for putting it off. It won’t work however; Oliver can still see the truth. Hard facts.

The real Slade was dead. The real Slade never knew he was the Arrow—that he’d now just been caught out in his guise of—or that persona having existed at the time. The Slade he had known still had both of his eyes intact.

This figment of his imagination moves though, like the physical being would—towards Oliver. A soldier’s stiffened shoulders and tightened gait.

Averting his eyes, Oliver puts them back on target—his bow.  

This was just like Tommy, only worse. Why did his mind have to dig up dead Alphas? He’s never seen Slade in a suit before, that wasn’t really something he’d put down as a fantasy of his either. Digging up remnants of what Lian Yu had taken from him was full stop, nothing he’d ever do on purpose.

_So then why this, now?_

With that one particular moment with Tommy, Oliver at least knew what to do. Relive that same moment, half-coercing Tommy into sex so he could get relieved of his accursed heat. Granted the Alpha had been just as enthusiastic about it when they’d gotten going, still the default blame was on him. By extension, that was only further betraying Laurel, the once love-of-his-life Omega.

She was just another person he couldn’t have. Someone he couldn’t do anything for, not just by biology’s standards. After abducting her half-boyfriend, half-ex at the time for a night, Oliver could barely bring himself to look at her, let alone make civil conversation.

Maybe if the two had never tarnished his dead memory by pawning off each other… Then he would have had a much easier, guilt-free time swiping  _his_  ‘best friend’ away for ambiguous screwing around. 

It was just another way that Oliver’s mind would continue to plague itself.

Tonight’s failure in taking down Cyrus Gold could be added to that list, Oliver Queen’s would-be failures. Not just to himself, but to the people of the city.

“You’re awfully quiet,” the ghost rasps, and Oliver’s almost disappointed he hasn’t left after ignoring him for so long.

This, on the other hand, was  _not_  a head trip he had experience with.

Break out of it; he needed to get out of this trance. How was he going to—his scars and tattoos, they would ground him. He never remembered all of them in his dreams; in fact, he would sometimes purposely drown them out. Purge out his imperfections, signs of the pain and suffering he had to endure on the island.

Three tattoos, about half a dozen notable scars—that’s what he was looking for.

He wanted to move his hands to dance over his chest, look for the no-lie signs of reality. But his hands feel trapped within his archery gloves, thoroughly clammy and shaking, where Oliver has left them wrapped around his sides.

“You died. You can’t be here,” Oliver finally responds, now confident in his ability to ward off Not-Slade.

One leg dragging behind him, he groans as he moves for his bow. That had been his original intention, so maybe if he could just get it, this reality lapse would all blow over. Oliver then feels his insides all freeze up.

“So did you, yet here we. Reunited at last,” Slade coos, and Oliver just feels his stomach tie itself in even more knots.

His heart’s pounding in his ears, everything around him is scorching. When he goes for his bow, leaning over, one arm still cradling his abdomen, everything worsens. Slade’s ghost moves too fast for his eyes, Oliver nearly tripping over as his stomach sears painfully.

“You were my friend,” he tries to explain; trembling in the arms of the other when Slade prevents him from failing over.

Apologizing to the mirage was all Oliver could think to do. Even though glowering at Slade was the first thing he thought to do, his throat had tightened up and apologizing in his head was so much easier than it was in real life. Not-Slade eases his head over one shoulder, despite the height difference between them.

 _Exactly_ , this only further confirmed his suspicions on this hazy matter.

He wouldn’t get hurt in a dream. Especially one where the pain wasn’t already pre-determined, like his heat and the blows from Cyrus Gold he’d taken, panging him here. In reality, the real Slade could—and had—hurt him; in return he had done the same. Yet here Slade’s arms are tight around his torso, awkwardly positioned as Oliver can still feel his lower body still intent on collapsing out from underneath him.

It was all too much. Going after Cyrus Gold, his heat cycle, this figment of his imagination appearing. In spite of tremendous stamina, the exhaustion of it all had to his undoing somewhere. Better in his head, then outside where his family and friends could worry about it.

 _Let go_ , his reasoning whispered, as Oliver clasps the forearms of the Alpha around him. Even in a dream, he still recognized Slade’s scent. Alpha, silently intimidating, just like Shado’s had been. Normally, he would hate to be this close to an Alpha whilst in heat. But right now, his pain was consuming everything else, he could let go—it was blissful.

Safe, not safe, it didn’t matter right now.

“And friends come back for one another; I’ve come back for you now,” Slade says, and Oliver feels his head being titled upwards.

An eyepatch covered the Alpha’s right eye, the one Oliver had stabbed into with an arrow. It feels detrimental to himself to look at it, silently cringing, but he notices something else while doing so.

Slade’s eye—his gaze—it’s wrong, oh so wrong. It’s sullen, not fiery—resentful, not hostile. In the past he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Alpha look at him this way.

His consciousness would never be this easy on him, so uninvolved in tormenting him.

That’s when he knows, and Not-Not-Slade must recognize the dilation in his eyes as shock. Oliver jolts backwards out of Slade’s arms, rounding on his heel. He feels his lungs contract violently, exhaling quickly like he’s just taken another blow to the stomach.

This was real, as real as it could get.

Slade had just killed that Alpha, and now he was in a position where he could possibly do the same to him. Breaking into a tiresome sprint, the bow catches Oliver’s foot—where it was still left on the concrete. It breaks his gait, and everything tilts sidewards towards the ground.

xxxxxxxx

Oliver doesn’t even try to break his fall on the way down to the concrete. That’s worrisome, Slade quickly making sure to prevent the Omega from planting his face into the ground, so as not to further obtain a possible concussion. Catching him around the waist, Oliver’s already gone, for the most part, limp.

Flipping him back upwards, Slade makes for a pulse. It’s already been several seconds since the blonde went down, out for more than a few minutes would suggest something other—and worse—than a brief lapse of consciousness.

Still hanging clumsily in his arms, Slade snorts and just heaves Oliver into his arms to check his vitals. Eyes half-lidded, the Omega doesn’t stir when he begins the walk back to his car, feeling for the other’s carotid artery.

It’s nearly midnight, and the streets are deserted, so Slade trusts that sign of absence enough that he can safely flip back Oliver’s hood, getting to his neck. Right now, Slade could collapse his windpipe before the Omega knew any better.

That was no sufferance however, real pain meant Oliver Queen had to repent. Pay for what he’d done.

On Lian Yu, with bodily pain, the former might have been possible. Here it is not. Oliver is stronger, a much stronger Omega than he looks, but he had failed to kill Slade last time. 

Slade’s disgruntled, but manages to control himself enough to not rip Oliver’s voice box out, fingers on his neck. Pulse is there, smooth, though he should still be chewing out Brother Blood for letting Cyrus damage Oliver this badly. Nothing seemed to be seriously wrong with the Omega; suddenly collapsing could always be something other than exhaustion however.

Slade did not have much medical training from ASIS; taking Oliver to a hospital was out of the question though. In spite of being unconscious, Oliver Queen was still a very, pleasing Omega in heat, and only he was going to be allowed the pleasure of tearing the other’s life apart.

Although opulent, Oliver’s scent wasn’t what he was used to it being, scent neutraliser only just now starting to wear off as it was sweated away. It made hauling Oliver’s arse to the Lamborghini a lot easier than what it could have been, not like some of the earlier times he’d been around the Omega near his heats.

Sebastian really should have been doing this, but he’d been sloppy recently. This was one task, although he didn’t expect to have to make his move this early, that couldn’t be done half-assed. Sebastian was at least able to do these things inconspicuously though, Slade walking around, even at night, was counter-productive.

Oliver Queen had eyes everywhere after all, even the Glades.

Here, Oliver was just ungainly—a lot easier to take than expected; his eyes had been dilated, he’d been practically weak as a kitten. Very much out of it.

Especially know that he was able to easily toss Oliver into the passenger seat. Or do so gently, not needing the other anymore damaged than he already was.

An eye witness still had to be killed, yet if the Vigilante hadn’t walked straight to him, there could have been more. Brother Cyrus had been right, for an Omega he would have been irritatingly hard to track. Now it was just to make sure he doesn’t wake up early than wanted.

It’d been nearly a minute or two now, so if he wants to further knock Oliver out, Slade would just have to bank on nothing else going wrong. Which he could just do by punching Oliver in the face, but then Slade could always send the Omega’s nose cartilage into his brain as well.

Less forcefully was going to have to be the approach.

Still bending over in the car, Slade pulls the sleeves up on Oliver’s wrist. Which moves only marginally, catching on the arm bracers there. Oliver groans at the touch, while he quickly pushes down on the blonde’s wrist pressure point.

Usually it would have taken a couple minutes to stimulate natural sleep this way, but Oliver’s already out of it enough and with his strength the process is almost instantaneous.

Head slumping back downwards, Oliver looks like he succumbs to a deeper, more natural sleep, where hopefully he’d stay for at least the next half an hour.

Strapping Oliver in, Slade moves back around the car to the driver’s seat, pondering whether to strap Oliver to a chair or leave him somewhere more comfortable to rest off his exhaustion.

xxxxxxxx

Before Oliver’s even fully awake he knows something is wrong.

Feels it in his bones, that thankfully aren’t thoroughly aching. Amidst just wanting to stay sleeping, the former is what tips him off.

The lack of cool steel or gritty concrete underneath him either causes him to jolt upwards with confusion. This was not—as Diggle had coined it—the Arrowcave, or the streets of the Glades.

With the cushioned bed beneath him he could have been home—could have.

Seeing as Oliver was still in his Arrow getup the former was out of the question, long before he even needed to further question his current location. The scent here was not the familiar one of home, Oliver notices, sense of smell having strengthened during his heat and with the hormone off-balancers now starting to leave his system.

It was sterile, though the most predominant dynamic was that of an Alpha, occasional Beta.

Groaning, Oliver gets up before cringing, before inhaling deeply.

He has no idea where he was, or really needed to know at this point, only that Slade Wilson had him. And that he was alive.

It’d been a long time since he’d let himself mourn for Slade, and he could do the same now. Though the former emotion is eclipsed by how wholesomely pissed off he is.

He snarls, staggering to his feet where he finds his bow on a wooden dresser. It’s accompanied by his quiver, which is weird that the Alpha thought to leave him armed.

Slade had survived though… which meant his arrows were going to be ineffective here. Unless maybe this time he thoroughly gouged out his organs.

There’s a window in the room, beside the double bed. Which should surprise him, being a free captive, rather than chained up somewhere, but Oliver wasn’t going to complain over Slade’s supposed negligence. Though he’d been out for longer than expected, possibly drugged, as his heat was no longer ignorable like he’d managed to do before collapsing anyway. There’s no clock in the room, so he can’t be sure how much time has passed.

But, the scales had been tipped and now he was just aching with need.

Oliver focuses on the window again, where if necessary; it wouldn’t be hard for him to make a getaway. The nearest building would be a painful drop down, but not unbearable should given enough time to nurse his current limp.

Oliver’s not intent on running away however; too many elements had just fallen into place to allow that, even in his weaken state. People had started dying just over a month ago because of the Mirakuru injections, now he had a face and a name to hold accountable.

Everyone who had gotten it so far had died, except Cyrus Gold who had pulverised him twice now. No doubt the Alphas were chummy together, though being left for dead earlier today and whisked away by Slade now didn’t add up.

Either Cyrus wanted him dead, for whatever reason, Slade no longer wanted him dead, or there was a middle man somewhere. The pecking order didn’t exactly all up to Oliver, but what did was that Slade was trying to create more super soldiers in Starling City. 

Likely not for harmonious reasons, though Oliver’s still alive at this stage. If he was meant to been dead, he would have been by now.

Steeling himself, Oliver knows he has to be prepared to put Slade down… again. This time for very different reasons. Whatever was going on, this was not the person he had once known. That knowledge hurts him, but so does innocents in the city dropping dead for no reason other than to further one’s own goals.

Dig and Felicity were no doubt on their way by now. Too much time had passed and even Oliver doesn’t really know where he is anymore. The well lit up scenery out the window tells him it isn’t the Glades.

Fingers crossed, he has to hope they don’t come.

He hasn’t had a chance to scope out potential threats outside this room let alone is equipped to protect them in this situation—likely not even just himself. Now being off the streets, there were only two common options his friends could come to.

Someone or something had gotten him, or he’d pinned down and found their main problem, where hopefully it could be cut off at the source.

In this case both.

Cursing, he knows he should have brought the Bluetooth to assure Felicity he was okay, that there was no need to come. Lying was never his strong suit though, and he’d be misleading himself to say he wasn’t in the least bit anxious.

This whole situation is just screwed up.

Throwing his quiver around his back, Oliver’s hand spasms when he reaches for his bow. Everything still hurt and his body seared with heat.  _Why now, why now!_  His inner thighs were now thoroughly wet with slick, again, leather sticking to nearly every aspect of him. It’s bothersome, not in his heat’s usual inconvenient way, but that he could just lie down and submit to those urges.

More easily than usual.

It must have been the overpowering Alpha scent everywhere in this place, domineering even by the dynamic’s standard.

Panting, Oliver resists the urge to crumple back onto the bed. His sleep before must have been unnatural because he doubted he could try to sleep through this hell gripping him.

Making for the door, Oliver tries the doorknob, careful not to rattle it loudly. It twists in his hand with ease,  _unlocked_. There was no way of telling whether the door was guarded or would trip off an alarm if he opened it though. At least not from the inside. Trusting his nose tells him of no terribly close scents, so he just had to be prepared to scope for possible exits should things go south.

Oliver throws his hood back over his head, the comfort of it gratifying, empowering. Tucked away in his apparel was still the voice filter, active, if he needed to play the Arrow with anyone who wasn’t Slade Wilson.

This was possibly a very bad idea, but Oliver Queen had a plan, granted a possibly unexpected one.

xxxxxxxx

Slipping through the ajar door he was holding open, Oliver makes it out of his former cell unassailed.

The hallway he finds himself in is dark, not having the benefit of superficial light that the previous room did, flitting in through here absent windows. The place is practically smothered in expensive furnishings. That made him think hotel, but the atmosphere was far too quiet to be a public place. It had upper living quarters though, so that suggested corporate headquarters.

_For what?_

It’s weird to think that Slade would be among the one percent of the city’s wealthy, which only opens up more questions for Oliver to assault the man with. He hadn’t brought Oliver here to just let him uncover whatever secrets this building held, so now just to locate the Alpha.

Irritation burns in him almost as much as his heat does, whilst he treads carefully on the carpet, out of habit more than necessity. Walking heel-to-toe, right leg protesting his swift movements, Oliver stills when he notices a break in the seemingly non-stop doors in the corridor.

It was a recession in the wall, likely a larger area, which carried the largest quantity of Alpha scent—Slade.

Executing a silent roll, Oliver moves hastily into an alcove of the room. Even under the cover of darkness, he knew this was where the Alpha was purely by scent. Its dark, but there’s dim light at the end of the room which is only about six feet away. Oliver feels his breathing hitch when he looks over and notices Slade. The sight causes him to stiffen and heart burn with feelings of regret.

Almost relief too that Slade was alive. Here in Starling, annoyingly enough, but not dead.

His earlier originally presumed dream held true to the real thing. Slade’s got his head down, looking over something, though it isn’t hiding the protective cloth over his right eye. The eye obviously had never healed, which gives him the sense that at least these Mirakuru soldiers weren’t completely invincible.

 _No_ , that was so wrong to think, especially considering he had been the one to…

Oliver stops gawking, which allows him to recollect his thoughts. Putting matter over mind, he ducks further into the foyer. In front of him there’s a pillar which he manages to land with his back to. His movements are quiet but the cry of pain he lets out is not.

Stomach stabbing him, his thighs became wet again from where they previously had just become a sticky dry.

Teeth buried into his lower lip, Oliver silences himself, praying he wasn’t that loud.

“That was stupid,” Slade calls, confirming he’s been heard.

Grumbling, the Omega pulls himself up off the floor and out from behind the pillar. There was no point in hiding anymore, though he does pull his bow up to chest height, other arm preparing to reach for his quiver. Slade doesn’t show any initiative of moving from behind his desk, but Oliver keeps his distance by the pillar anyway, knowing Slade could close that distance between them almost instantaneously.

“Why are you here?” Oliver barks, voice deep and threatening in spite of his internal agony.

Up close, he can see that Slade looks noticeably aged, but not at all worn. His hair has greyed in some parts and his face looked noticeably harsher. Still, Oliver remains at a distance, knowing better than to underestimate his opponent, especially in their territory.

Oliver can only snort at Slade’s response.

“Well, this is my office, and you’re in in.”

Refusing the urge to ask how long the Alpha knew he was ducking about the room, Oliver guesses the whole time, scent possibly having giving him away. He’d grown out of doing such dynamic entries, where he used to just enter with the proclamation of “you have failed this city”.

At least the comfort of having his bow and hood on him hadn’t worn off.

Unsatisfied with Slade’s sarcastic answer, Oliver starts to move through his list of questions.

“Why now then, letting me know you’re here? Why after all this time? You obviously haven’t just showed up in Starling City, people have been dropping dead because of the serum injections for over a month now,” Oliver hisses, before trailing off, “You let me think you were dead!”

“Because I didn’t intend to reveal myself this early, this—” Slade motions around them at nothing in particular, “was a most unforseen complication. You saw how rough Cyrus was with you. If I let you go now, I doubt you’d be able to defend yourself if something like that were to happen again.”

Oliver scowls, rotating his head around as if looking for possible escapes. There’s none in the darkened room, so he’d have to back down the hallway again if he needed to make a run for it. Outrunning Cyrus Gold had been hard enough, doing the same with Slade Wilson might have been impossible.

“In fact, you might not survive the encounter,” Slade speaks, easing up out of his chair,  
“pretty little Omega like yourself, Unbonded, walking home alone, an Alpha can’t always be asked to control themselves.”

Oliver sparks up at what Slade appeared to be insinuating. It irks him to no end how much Alphas either seemed to pity or exploit Omegas in heat.

Superstition said that an Omega’s rage during their heats was unparalleled. Matched only by how insufferable their heats were for the lengths of time since they’d last been rutted.

He’d show Slade had powerless he could be at his hands.

“Really then? I’d like to see you try,” Oliver hisses, allowing himself to gravitate towards the Alpha so that they were barely a foot apart.

The emotion that sparks in Slade’s face is clearly pure fury, though Oliver doubts he can be as resentful as Oliver feels. Slade had let him think he was dead, and that pain felt like it had stayed with him forever. Being alive and well, that might have made things better, but it definitely didn’t when everything so far pointed to Slade being out for his hide.

How, and what, exactly the Alpha was doing didn’t matter, because when Slade snaps back at him, it’s only to trudge up more memories of the past.

“I kept my hands off you when no one else did. You think I didn’t relish putting my hands through Ivo after knowing what had he done to you. Done to Shado. I knew he didn’t keep his hands off you, neither could Fyer’s men. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt; let you wallow in your self-pity, because I could be the better man,” Slade jabs.

Oliver snorts; wanting to brush off what he knew the other was talking about, but feeling the effects of that memory all the same. 

It may as well have been Slade’s own fault. If he hadn’t run off in the first place, Oliver and Sara would have never had to chase after him.

xxxxxxxx

_Returning to the plane had been, for the most part, a waste of time._

_Sara and he had spent the night there, further putting them possibly days behind wherever Slade had run off to. Also with the Mirakuru. That alone is an uncomfortable enough thought, he and Sara—still very much city kids shipwrecked on an island—trying to navigate this wilderness alone._

_It might have been incredibly humiliating to admit aloud, but Oliver had almost become co-dependant on having people like Slade and Shado around to, more often than not, save his hide._

_Granted, they were still both intimidating, Unbonded Alphas, his dynamic at least gave off the illusion that he needed them around to protect him. That he wasn’t a threat to either of them and that they should safeguard him for procreation’s sake._

_Yao Fei and Slade, in particular, had surprised him with their amount of restraint around him. It made Oliver believe that when—and if—he ever got back to Starling City, going off the suppressants, that his father had originally patronized to go on, might not be such a bad idea after all._

_He really doubts he will though, if he ever gets home. There was still what happened with Fyer’s men, and he hasn’t even brought himself to tell Sara the truth about his dynamic either yet._

_She was only a Beta, so it lets Oliver’s mind go to ease when she’s sleeping not even several feet away from him. It’s a double-edged sword though, because around other Omegas and Betas he might be able to breathe a sigh of relief, their—particularly his own—survivability likely dropped with the lack of naturally battle-suited Alphas by them._

_Even disregarding Oliver’s previously luxurious lifestyle, and a total lack of wilderness survival instinct, it was always beneficial for Omegas to associate themselves with Alphas for protection’s sake. Usually, he would have never listened to a lot of that crap, but at the end of the day he wants to live._

_Wants to get the opportunity to apologize to Laurel, wants to one day see his family again. Full stop, he just wanted to get off this prehistoric island where it’d become a daily activity to lather himself with dirt._

_It had been a long time since the act had been degrading for Oliver and evolved to become a survival tactic._

_Several weeks after he’d first became stranded on the island, Yao Fei— his mysterious caretaker—had been the one to suggest it, or rather implement it._

_Malnourishment kept his body from exerting itself too quickly, but when the weeks bled into months, eventually his body had to buckle and just ovulate anyway._

_Regardless of how perilous and self-sabotage it could end up being._

_If Yao Fei suspected anything earlier he didn’t say it. Oliver had almost come to think the only reason he was being kept alive was, again, reproduction’s sake. They were stuck on an island, an Alpha keeping him alive wasn’t exactly reassuring, especially when he was dependant on them to survive._

_Ultimately it just seemed like the more logical alternative, the alternative Oliver would naturally be led to believe, rather than an Alpha just doing it all out of the kindness of their heart._

_Yao Fei’s gone when it first happens, out, having sealed the cave too, when Oliver collapses to his knees, curling in on himself. So long, it’d seemed like he’d been on the island for so long he should have worked out a viable strategy for managing his heats._

Or at least what to do in them to prevent himself from becoming an Alpha’s bitch.

_The people on this island had so far shown to be less than hospitable, so maybe they’d just kill him instead?_

_At least them he wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment of it all._

_Without the hormone suppressants at his fingertips, it felt like his whole life could have been falling apart. Which it was—and it had—his father had still shot himself after all, but having more girly hormones to deal with that were no longer being nullified, was not helping either._

_It would cause tears to well up in his eyes for no reason and it made Oliver seriously doubt he’d ever see the light of day outside of this hellhole again._

_Like a knife in his gut though, he’s reminding being an emotional wreck is not the worst of it, the heat is, now feeling like its churning his insides up into mince. Oliver can’t be sure if Yao Fei is coming back—or what his response to this will be—but regardless, he needs to try and get his relief on his own. Just like he always had._

_No matter how desperate, this man was still practically a stranger at the end of the day, and he was not going to let himself be willingly knotted by just anyone. Preferably not at all._

_It was different when he wasn’t on the receiving end of things, yet he’d never gotten anyone pregnant either. Omega males could still come, though it was like they were born having a vasectomy._

_After agonizingly long hours, Oliver stiffens up, smelling Yao Fei returning._

_Hand still down his pants; he doesn’t make to remove it, still intent on pleasuring himself as much as possible, despite the awkward situation he’ll be caught out in. Fuck being embarrassed._

_At home, Oliver expects he’d be ridiculed for coming out as an Omega, here none of that matters. He’s lost all status or anything that still meant anything in the world to him besides survival._

_“_ Bèn, _” Yao Fei scorns, when he walks in after removing the rock from the cave entrance._

_Oliver takes it as an insult even if he has no idea what the man is saying._

_Light flitters in from outside, which feels like forever since he’s last seen it. Though despite possibly feeling like he should make a run for it, Oliver still continues pushing fingers inside of himself, trying to stroke that pleasurable spot just out of reach._

_Yao Fei doesn’t really take notice of him and neither does he pay him much attention, Oliver keening as he feels his digits grow sticky from his touches. When the Alpha places a hand on the small of his back, smearing dirt into the fabric of his clothes, it is kind of hard for him not to take notice though. Intrinsically, Oliver flinches when the other puts his hands on him, granted he was being covered in dirt._

_Still in the same clothes he was shipwrecked in, Oliver’s consistently been filthy the entire time. Moving to try and slap Yao Fei’s hands away from him is difficult, Oliver still awkwardly positioned, he protests when the other rubs muck over his neck._

_“What are you doing?” Oliver groans, mind too clouded by desire to allow himself to be embarrassed at this stage._

_“You no survive with scent like yours. You need mask yourself; otherwise they find you much easier,” Yao Fei explains, not paying Oliver’s pheromones much attention._

_Maybe the Alpha was once Bonded, because he doesn’t seem at all interested. Possibly still could be, though Oliver was not picking up a trace of any other on him._

_Although at first disgusting, Oliver would eventually grow into the habit of smothering his skin and clogging his pores to better conceal his natural scent. Omegas weren’t supposed to fight, weren’t built to, though Oliver still finds himself lean and lethal enough from months of hellish training._

_It’s nearly morning, and he’s reminded, weeks, it’d been weeks since he’d last gone into heat. This would be his eighth heat so far on the island._

_But they were supposed to go out and look for Slade again today._

_Scuffling out of the shell of the plane, Oliver drops to the ground and fists handfuls of dust up. He still had time, possibly a dozen hours, judging from the overheated yet not crippling sensation burrowing under his skin. Until then, he could manage._

_Slade was more important, making sure the Alpha didn’t do anything stupid either was more important at the moment._

_The sun’s rising high in the sky when Sara turns to Oliver, the two of them trekking nowhere in particular in pursuit of Slade. “Your scent’s funny,” the Beta quips bluntly._

_They’d been around each other for far too long and seen too much together to dance around a matter. Oliver can’t help roll his eyes; eventually no amount of masking would hide his impending heat at this close a distance._

_It’s not like he was trying to hide the truth from her, it had just involuntary become the status quo for him._

_Slade and Shado had both found out, though maybe as a Beta, Oliver would be able to hide it from her just that little bit longer. Anything to savour his pride from the looks he'd come to expect if people ever found out the truth._

_Shado… her bow—the one of her father’s she’d give him—and quiver were slung over his back and her hood cloaked over his head. Her Alpha scent covering its fabric was comforting even in her passing, not quite as threatening as Slade’s was. It wasn’t so much a protective defence to wear her hood now that it was a consoling one._ _Also commemorating her late father._

_It was hard not to be attracted to Shado, in the first place, especially when Oliver couldn’t think of any women who had resisted his charm before. Even Sara had admitted past feelings for him, granted Shado had no idea who he was and he didn’t have a plethora of money at his fingertips any longer so as to shower her with gifts._

_Thinking about her was painful though, especially when he felt he should have been the one to die in her place._

_“I’ve been on an island for over a year now, Sara. I don’t exactly still smell like leather—” Oliver starts to deflect her comment, after a noticeable pause, when he comes to a sudden halt._

_Sara stills behind him as well at the sudden sound of undergrowth crunching underfoot. Resisting the urge to call out, knowing it was likely Slade, Oliver’s waits to smell the familiar Alpha’s scent._

_Wrong, wrong—it was not Slade. Beta scent, Alpha, though mostly Beta—not Slade at all._

_Sara and he both bolt as Ivo’s men—he assumes—burst out from the surrounding forest. The two of them scatter, not exactly in the same direction either._

_Ivo’s men may have had guns, but they had the advantage of knowing this terrain and area a lot better than anyone else likely did._

_Despite really needing to run for his life right now, the added pain set in by his heat; makes the task difficult for Oliver. Sara’s reassuring scent was no longer by his side, strength in numbers after all. Though splitting up to both draw Ivo’s men in different directions might have meant an easier task of outrunning them, at least in theory._

_His lungs flare up with stitches stabbing him across either side. Everything around him was just a blur of trees and shrubs, twigs whipping him across the face every now and then. Oliver had no specific destination in mind except away. Worry about Sara later, she was probably doing better than he was, just get the hell out of here._

_When his stomach contracts sharply though, Oliver has to come to a halt, sliding down a nearby tree trunk as he nearly collapses. Why now, why now. The pain never seemed to become much easier to bare, legs turning to lead as he tries to fight his way back onto his feet._

_There was no noise around him that seemed to indicate that he was still in pursuit of, though that isn’t much reassurance in his mind._

_Where was Slade when they needed him?_

_Cocking his head to one side, Oliver makes another glance to check that the coast is clear before involuntarily dropping to the ground. It was only sheer willpower that was keeping him standing._

_Glancing to his left, that resolve quickly gives out as Oliver feels a hand snake around his mouth from the right. He goes to shout and protest, knowing the distinct Beta that was holding him—_ Ivo.

_Any attempt to scream or struggle is quickly pulverised out of him though as hard metal slams into his face._

xxxxxxxx

Oliver manages to bring himself back to the present when he feels his insides flare up again.  _Dammit_ , it had all been Slade’s fault and he knew it. He was steadily growing more agitated, though he still had a plan—play it cool, and everything would be okay.

“Why the hell did you take me then, dammit? Last time you were around me in heat, I gouged out your eye! Are you asking me to take your other?” Oliver seethes, in pain, not wishing to deal with anymore Alphas at the moment.

Slade was just asking for it right now, and if he continued to do so he was going to give it to him. Even though the Alpha could kill him and no one would ever likely know any better, Oliver doesn’t doubt his control over the situation. Slade hadn’t wanted him to know he was alive at this stage; hence this put them on more equal footing.

The Alpha arches back up at him, looking like he’s refraining from hitting him.

“You should be thankfully, right now that I’m looking out for you,” the Alpha comes out with, though it sounds odd on Oliver’s ears.

This was not how he would have anticipated a reunion between them, not that it would ever have been hugs and happy welcome homes to begin with.

It sounded like Slade was trying to say he was protecting him, though if he hadn’t stuck Cyrus Gold on his ass in the first place he wouldn’t have to, now would he? It was so stupid, though Oliver can see where the bad blood between them has likely stemmed from.

There was far more at stake here than just his own life though, and no matter the cost, the people of Starling City had to come before him. His friends and family, he couldn’t let Slade get to them.

Even though attempting to kill, or just put a stop to, Slade again feels almost just as painful.

That wasn’t the way the Arrow did things anymore, though he’d made the exception for the Count when Felicity was being threatened. If it didn’t come to that, for now perhaps Oliver could lay off trying to stab the Alpha in the brain again.

Of course he wouldn’t let him know that, couldn’t appear lax in the face of the enemy.

“I can take care of myself,” he growls, feeling his insides turn to mush.

He wasn’t actually sure how much restraint he’d have in his heat, creeping up on him so suddenly. Last time things went south he’d gotten Tommy half-drunk so he could be half-knotted. Slade was digging at wounds he wasn’t aware the Alpha had picked up so acutely on and it made him feel all the more vulnerable right now.

Slade doesn’t seem to take notice of what he’s just said though, continually just getting up in his face.

“Then you go and put your hands all over Shado, and you know what, she could have done the exact same to you. But you were just too soft, never seemed to understand what Shado and I did for you. Unbonded Alphas, if it wasn’t for us, Fyer’s men would have been on you within days. Bloody near gave us all away.”

“I survived long after you were out of the picture, five years on that godforsaken island. Nearly four years on my own,” Oliver hisses, lashing back at the other implying his weakness.

It was amazing how he’d managed to keep his bow lowered at this stage, but obviously verbal abuse was turning out to be more painful for the both of them.

“Perhaps you did,” Slade quietens, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you were a struggle just to be around _every day_.”

He is so sick of this shit.

Quickly he drops his bow and Slade quirks an eyebrow at him like he’s just been caught off guard. Oliver disarms himself and sneers dangerously at the other.

“Yeah,” Oliver leers, opening his jacket, “how about now?”

Within a moment he’s tossed his top and quiver aside, letting it drop wherever. Stripping his jacket off his voice also returns to its normal pitch, lighter, nowhere near as heavy as it was before.

It’s only momentarily, but Oliver sees the look of surprise—no, shock—cross Slade’s face. He lets out a breath of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding, allowing the full brunt of his pheromones to waft over him.

It was light, musky with subtle metallic undertones like usual, probably credit to the environment he lived in. It’s expensive, like leather and it causes Slade to tense upwards, reeling backwards slightly, as if stunned. If he wasn’t right on his heat, it could possibly pass for a Beta’s smell.

Oliver chokes back a laugh, watching Slade compose his flustered self and turn away from him. It was basic instinct, an Alpha should know better than to harm an Omega. Slade on the other hand, smells like sandalwood and salt water, what he guesses is the outback Australia.

It might have been incredibly low exploitation of him, but sexual attraction was just another means to an end for Oliver Queen.

Hopefully.

“You’re asking for it, kid,” Slade growls, turning back to him, looking slightly more in control of himself.

Oliver resists the urge to shudder, now that’s he’s practically half-naked.

“Where’d you get that?” Slade glowers, coming back over and poking a finger into his left ribcage.

The eight-pointed star over Oliver’s left pectoral, he recognizes it somewhere. Military. ASIS knew most of these symbols, rival and ally associates. This was definitely not a friendly associate.

Oliver just slaps his hand to the side, probably not expecting that sort of a reaction. He glances down and realises Slade is looking at one of his many tattoos.

“What’s it to you?” Oliver spits back, having seemed to have peaked the Alpha’s interest.

He has plenty of questions of his own, until he got some answers, neither would Slade.

Not sure what to do with arms, feeling slightly awkward like he should put his shirt back on, Oliver just folds them over the tattoo Slade seemed so interested in. That doesn’t last very long though as Slade quickly pulls his arms down and has him backed into a pillar.

Nearly tripping over, Oliver hisses at Slade’s grip on forearms. His pain tolerance was a lot lower than he was used to with his skin already feeling like it was on fire. The slightest touch was irritating as he feels the breath get knocked out of him.

This was getting very irritating, granted Oliver was playing the blame game too. Maybe he ought to just buckle now as he’d definitely be giving Slade what for later.

“Bratva,” Oliver offers, panting.

Slade backs off him for the moment but remains close enough that he can take in the man’s scent.

“I should have known, a mob—not military. There’s no honour in the mafia!”

The tattoos were far more common motifs when their gangs were more structured in prison. In Asia, stars worn on the knees usually signified the owner would kneel to no one. The chest: dictated rank as a thief, likely high-up—captain. Slade used to be ASIS, possibly still could be, so Oliver’s not surprised that the tattoo he was given by Anatoli Knyazev would send off some warning bells in his head.

“You do realise, if I die, Bratva will not take it well? I have had contact with our leader within the last month, it would not do well for me to up and die. People would take notice, and those people would know it as no accident,” Oliver threatens, although knowing Slade is unlikely to kill him right now.

It wasn’t a lie either, and although he hadn’t done much for the mafia other than pull their leader out from Ivo’s ship, Anatoli definitely liked him.

Other than Diggle and his sister, he was one of the only Alphas that Oliver had ever managed to be completely comfortable around.

Hell, he’d pretty much proposed when they’d first met.

“Why didn’t you get off the island back then, with the mafia?” Slade barks.

Oliver nearly rolls his eyes, having grown sick of questions by now. Slade was ridiculous, far more restraint than any Alpha he’d ever known and he was really starting to feel the intensity of his heat right about now.

 _Be calm, be cool_ , he pleads with himself. Just answer the stupid question.

He stays by the pillar, rubbing his forearms where bruises were starting to sport up.

“Well, at the moment, I am forever owed the debt of saving the Russian mafia’s leader’s life, and it will stay that way,” Oliver begins to explain, having thoroughly thought about this a long time ago, “Should I have went with him, that obligation would have been likely been forfeit, and I might have ended up a permanent Russian. Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t just be able to come back to Starling City as ‘Oliver Queen’. Being charted off the island by the mafia also looks a lot more suspicious than me being stumbled upon by Chinese fishermen.”

Again, it’s not the whole truth, but it’s going to have to be enough for now. Slade obviously knows this, just looking at him like he’s been spouting bullshit the entire time.

“Are you going to fuck me, or not?” Oliver half-demands, though not at all out of the blue.

His pants were thoroughly soaked with slick by now and Slade must notice that, just shaking his head.

The Alpha growls, turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Oliver takes this as his queue to follow, grabbing his quiver, bow and top on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Bèn” means “stupid” in Chinese, according to the internet. Feel free to correct me if it’s wrong.


	4. Inverse

Everything so far was going according to plan.

Slade just grumbles in front of him, walking down the hallway. With his jacket in hand, Oliver doesn’t bother replacing it over his chest, as he’d rather not have Yao Fei’s hood ripped to shreds during intercourse. It was one of the only things he had left to remember such influential people on his life: Shado and Yao Fei, and later it had become part of his signature attire as the Vigilante.

Originally, he might have wanted Slade to have it to take some of the guilt off his chest, but now he was fiercely protective of it. Even in all its tattered glory.

Oliver walks slightly pained, trailing after Slade as the Alpha stops in front of one of the hallway’s many doors. “Don’t think this means anything, kid,” Slade comes out gruffly, before letting himself into the room.

Oliver can’t help but be quite smug with himself, knowing no matter how much control an Alpha had, no one  _should_  be able to resist him. Even as an Omega, he was still very much the quintessential theorized Alpha.

In his father’s company, he had legitimate power, over just about everyone there except Isabel Rochev. His unseen connections with the Bratva were threatening enough, even if only one or two people in the city really knew that. As the Arrow, people like Roy Harper were willing to bend over backwards for him at the sake of  _justice_.

Although there also were people in the city that thought he was poisoning it just like the men he had once targeted did. But by the same token there were just as many that thought the Vigilante was their modern day Robin Hood.

Slade no doubt knows all of this, so if anything, the truth about his dynamic likely makes him that much more intimidating. That an Omega would be so undaunted by an Alpha, still getting up in his face, even after knowing that his life was likely still in Slade’s hands.

Two could play it that game.

Slade Wilson needed to be preferably put back in his place. Once Oliver ensured that no one else was getting hurt at his expense, then he could work out his next step.

Which for now, he thought, staggering into another exquisite apartment-type room, his current move was getting his dammed heat over with. That way he wouldn’t be putting arrows in people on the way back to Verdant to avoid being jumped. Considering Slade had brought him back here in the first place, Oliver wants to say he’s surprised the Alpha isn’t staking his claim or exerting more dominance over him.

Similar had happened the last time they’d been around each other, and that time Oliver hadn’t nearly been anywhere near as cool with it as he was now.

xxxxxxxx

_It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, when Oliver finally comes to again._

_His vision swirls immediately and the urge to hurl is a hard lump in his throat. Around him the area is dark, dank smelling and there’s not much indication of anything around him to tell him where here is._

_Darting to his feet, Oliver then crumples back downward remembering he’s in Ivo’s hands._

_Moving upwards is near impossible, restrictive material—rope, Oliver guesses—keeping his arms tied behind his back. Shimming his arms upward is just painful, rope burns threatening to flare up across his wrists. The surface behind him seems to be a pole from what he can see twisting his head around._

_Panting, the smell of seawater reaches his nose._

Dammit _, he was back on the boat. The nigh-impenetrable boat._

_At least his jaw was moving fine, albeit stiffly. Anything broken in his face would not heal as well as the fingers and toes he’s sure have been broken over the months had. It could have just been his heat as well, but it feels like he’s been lulled into a drug-induced stupor. Maybe Ivo had drugged him with something?_

_Trying his best to brush off the fog in his mind, glancing around the room, he finds it mostly empty. Oliver does spot the late Shado’s archery equipment he’d been holding onto though. It was tossed aside, not that far. Stretching his leg out, making for the quiver to perhaps use an arrowhead to start gnawing into his bindings, it proves useless as it was just out of reach._

_He doesn’t see Sara though._

_It’s doubtful Ivo would keep them captive together after Sara proved a traitor towards him, though there’s hide nor hair of her here. Maybe she had gotten away, found Slade and hopefully stayed far away. He didn’t want to die here, but if he had to, it would be best if his sacrifice was not in vain._

_Ivo was going to hunt them all down to the ends of the earth until he got what he wanted, after all._

_Maybe this was his payback for not saving Shado when he could have. Sara might have argued that Ivo was always going to kill her from the start, but it didn’t mean Oliver hadn’t agreed to save Sara as well._

_Cowardly, it was so cowardly—he should have offered himself up in their places. Shado had far more chance of surviving out here than he did where he was just dead weight._

_Slade might not have been so distraught then, utterly destroyed by loss… if it had been him. The Alpha had loved her, and so had he, but he should have known better. The last relationship sabotage Oliver had attempted ended with him and the person involved marooned out in the middle of nowhere. Really, he should just keep his hands off everyone, save anyone else getting hurt by him._

_Which if he doesn’t make it out of here alive wouldn’t be happening anymore._

_Oliver pulls at his restraints again weakly when he smells Ivo approaching. No matter how deliberated by his heat affliction he was feeling, Oliver would kill Ivo if he got the chance. He’d have to if Slade and Sara were going to be truly safe. Avenge Shado, and maybe atone for one of the many sins he had committed._

_Ivo walks into the bunker glowering at Oliver, the Omega able to lunge forward towards him slightly on his feet. The Beta barely flinches as Oliver doesn’t go very far, instead just proceeds to pace around his captive. “You should have known I’d come back for you all eventually,” Ivo claims, huffing in annoyance._

_“You’ve all been an incredible thorn in my side, granted now that I have you—”_

_“Where’s Sara!” Oliver can’t help but blurt out, quickly fearing for her too, from the tone of Ivo’s voice._

_The Beta just tuts and shakes his head in frustration._

_“That ungrateful harlot got away, left you for dead at the very least, but that doesn’t matter, she’ll get her chance to suffer as well,” Ivo seethes._

_“How long are you going to keep me alive for then?” Oliver exclaims, wondering when Ivo was going to decide he was no longer ‘useful’._

_Probably not very long, and although is end is likely near for him, he just wants that bastard to move a little bit closer. Maybe he could headbutt Ivo’s skull in._

_“However long it takes for your heat cycle to fully set in,” Ivo answers as if it was a perfectly natural thing to say._

_His insides tightened and all fight seems to leave Oliver as he realises the Beta was going to likely ravage him. Completely eradicate him until he can’t help but beg for death anyway. The pheromones he was now letting off, although faint, were definitely that of an Omega. Dirt masking his ass, Yao Fei._

_“You’re sick!” Oliver yells, yet knowing his heat was going to come on all the same._

_There was nothing he could do! Ivo wasn’t even an Alpha which made the situation feel that much more fucked up. He wasn’t going to do this to get off, no—he was just going to do this to utterly spite him to hell._

_“Come now,” Ivo only tuts, “I’ve had Sara willingly at my beck and call for the last year. My usage for you extends beyond your biology; well rather it’s your biology I want, just not like that. Sara should rightfully be getting this honour, but Omegas seem better to work with in this situation than Betas.”_

_Oliver doesn’t really know what Ivo’s on about but the mention of Sara does it for him. This son-of-a-bitch was not going to hurt anyone else. Ivo’s barely a foot away from him smirking, when Oliver manages to spit in his face._

_Disgusting, yes, but Oliver utterly hated this man’s guts._

_The Beta recoils, mouth hanging agape, looking shocked at Oliver’s audacity. Wiping a hand over his face, Ivo quickly turns on him where Oliver can only back up into the pole he was trapped to._

_“You little tramp,” Ivo roars, backhanding him._

_The force of the other’s slap isn’t as bad as Oliver’s had before. Shado and Slade had done him far worse with a single blow. The motion of it still leaves his cheek stinging though as Ivo digs his fingertips up into Oliver’s jaw, causing him to look the other directly in the eyes._

_“And you know what, you’re the lucky one. You will die quickly but surely and I still have a use for you that extends beyond your death. Everyone else you love will be getting a far more painful punishment, once I get my hands on them,” Ivo puts his words vaguely before departing the room dismissively._

_Sliding back down to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest, Oliver begins to shake. Whatever the man had planned for him didn’t scare him. His friends’ safety was more the issue at hand, seeing as he was likely still a goner._

_The stabbing motions that tore up his insides just seemed to grow more violent by the minute. Normally, he’d attempt to sleep his body’s natural cycle off but trying to rest in Ivo’s grasp felt like suicide. The moment he closed his eyes he might not ever get to open them again._

_Ivo returns shortly, and in no time Oliver finds himself gagged for his insolence. Without much strength to fight the Beta off, he just submits and lets it happen. At least gagged he’d be keeping his mouth shut which would prevent him from saying anything else stupid._

_His cheek still stung from where he’d been slapped._

_Oliver just seethes quietly when Ivo pulls out something far more worrisome from his pocket._

_It’s a needle and syringe, granted it’s been fitted with a safety cap. The content inside of it is a sickly green and Oliver finds himself trying to shrink backwards into the pole he was bound to._

_Mirakuru._

How does Ivo have it?

_Had Slade brought it to Ivo? Oliver highly doubts it as the Alpha was out for justice for Shado’s death and would likely kill Ivo at the first chance he got. Struggling against his restraints, he realises that could mean Slade is dead then, a bullet to the head like Shado, which is doubtful even he’d survive._

_The dawning of it tears him up inside, that Ivo was probably just picking them off one by one. They were all going to die._

_Despite the gag, Oliver still manages a muffled scream of hatred at the Beta. His whole body hurt, muscles ached and now his heart just proceeded to sink in his chest. Ivo seems to notice his distress, the taunting he was causing Oliver._

_“Do you have any idea what this serum is made from?” Ivo exclaims, likely not expecting an answer, but going off on his explanation all the same._

_Oliver just writhes in his bindings, feeling his tear ducts grow wet with tears._

_Maybe Ivo had taken that vial earlier from the container, that would mean Slade was still safe? He could hope. Even if Slade had received the Mirakuru himself, he wasn’t bulletproof, and it doesn’t set Oliver’s fears to rest either._

_It doesn’t matter though, as with one of the serums Ivo could likely reproduce the formula over and over. He could probably take over the world with it, not that Oliver and his friends would likely be around for that long._

_Ivo just continues talking anyway as he pulls at the rope around his wrists, no longer caring about the friction burns erupting over his skin._

_“Originally, it was an Anabolic steroid, first made in the early 1930s for legitimate medical purposes, and not just for physique and performance enhancement as it is most commonly known for now. Medically, it’s a bit of a failure; it’s hardly ever prescribed outside of Alphas. In Betas and Omegas it more often than not kills off their reproductive function or at least decreases their fertility to a rate which is undesirable in society and mates.”_

_Barely comprehending a word the man says, Oliver just shudders when the beginnings of wetness creep out his insides. In no way was he looking forward to whatever Ivo intended to do with him, but his biology didn’t seem to care that he was currently prey in the lion’s den._

_“It was found though, that when synthetic versions of these steroids were used in conjunction with exercise, Betas—and particularly an Alpha’s—strength could increase by more than 38%, and it was at least that high for Omegas. The Japanese used this—the Anabolic steroids—as their base for The Miracle serum,” Ivo just continues, seeming almost gleeful with himself._

_A stone drops in the pit of Oliver’s stomach amidst all the other discomfort plaguing him._

_He was here to play Ivo’s guinea pig, that was it._

_Not as malicious as he might have originally thought, but still taking this foreign injection into himself did not sound at all pleasing. Especially when it could have very well killed Slade, rather than saved him, and from the sounds of it, he was so much better equipped to deal with it than Oliver was._

_“The long-term effects of the steroid though, could often lead to heart damage, liver failure, premature strokes. In World War Two, they began to use this synthetic form of testosterone to help the malnourished gain weight and improve their performance, the Japanese though sought to better this product. Counteract some of the more horrible side effects and break through the previous 38% strength enhancement statistic.”_

_Ivo takes a breath like he’s gotten caught up in the sound of his own voice. Oliver just bangs his head lightly back into the pole, not even trying to understand what the Beta was saying but wishing he would shut up all the same. Right now, he’s beginning to hope maybe Sara and Slade would come for him. It would mean putting their own lives at risk for his own… but this was just horrible._

_Knowing he was going to die a selfish brat, who had only ever gotten everyone else killed along with him. Even after his father had asked him to right his own wrongs._

_“Taking the DNA of various different animal species, among one of the ones still documented: the_ Turritopsis dohrnii _, the Japanese were able to refine the steroid into a very effective serum. Many more Omegas and Betas died in the process than anything else. Realistically, Alphas were usually the only ones to survive the injections, that left the Japanese with only about 28% of the population to create their superhuman army with.”_

 _There are tears spilling down Oliver’s face onto the fabric pulled between his teeth now._ Damn girly hormones _. He was never usually this emotional but what did it matter now?_

_Ivo just went on and on with his elaborate knowledge of things that Oliver could only understand to be “not good”._

_“Far less so, if you’re only thinking of the population in Japan and China, and that they commonly would rather use it on males than females. The death of so many Omega and Beta specimens did give the Japanese one idea though. A sort of airborne toxin created from the serum that their planes could fly over and drop into enemy territory. It didn’t necessarily have to be a bomb, but it would utterly annihilate large percentages of their population.”_

_Sniffling, Oliver manages to still his crying._

_Shado hadn’t wept or begged for her life and neither should he. Maybe he’d even get to see her again, not that if there was an afterlife he’d be going anywhere good._

_“Even the Omegas and Betas that managed to survive would likely prove to be horrific breeding stock,” Ivo smiles wickedly, and Oliver finally thinks he’ll finally see the end of this boring montage._

_“That alone, could cripple society and generations to come if procreation was near impossible. This was how the Japanese sought to create their ultimate weapon. Alas, the research notes left over don’t go very far into the creation of this airborne toxin. Apparently, they were still researching the effects the serum had on Omegas when the experimentation had to come to an unfortunate halt.”_

_The Beta sounds disappointed at the lack of anarchy in the world the Mirakuru could have caused. When he turns to Oliver, looking him directly in the eyes though, it doesn’t feel like there’s a lack of chaos in store for him though._

_Ivo’s up in his face almost immediately, safety cap off the Mirakuru and now poised in the Beta’s hand like a knife to kill. With one arm fastening up Shado’s hood collar, Ivo’s other is held level with his temple, syringe there._

_“This is where you come in. With this toxin, I could save the human race. There would be no war; the world could achieve peace if everyone simply understood where they stood. I need to replicate this serum if I am to get anywhere, so we’ll just start with whatever happens to you. An autopsy on an Omega killed during their heat should be interesting,” Ivo seethes, coming off as just mad to Oliver._

_Lunging forward, the Beta goes to drive the serum into his jugular vein._

_At the last moment, Ivo steers off course though and Oliver opens his eyes he hadn’t realised he’d shut, when nothing happens to him._

_There’s noise coming from above them, loud banging that’s far too prominent to be more than a floor or so up. Gunfire erupts in the corridors and Oliver practically screams behind the gagging._

_Could it be…? Sara and Slade had come for him?_

_The sliver of hope he has quickly fades as Ivo glares back at him._

_“No matter, I’m still going to going to kill you anyway. And now that everyone else has been so kind as to come along, you’ll all be seeing each other soon,” Ivo finishes, noise erupting around them, before stabbing the needle into the side of Oliver’s throat._

_The blow is harsh and all his muscles stiffen as his head goes lop-sided, sagging. At that motion, tears flood his eyes again, the world going glassy. Everyone might have come for him now, but it doesn’t matter because they were all going to die._

_There’s white noise all around him, it’s so loud. It feels like he’s waiting forever for the poisonous substance in the syringe to just creep through his veins and kill him already._

_His senses have all just given out under a combination of stress, exhaustion and shock. Hopefully no one would mourn his death as much as Shado’s, that way they could all still try and get off this island. Forget about him._

_Eventually, Oliver collapses on his side as much as his bindings will allow him to. He’s got his eyes scrunched up because his final moments don’t need to be filled with that bastard Ivo’s face. Sharply inhaling, he feels the needle still cocking out of his neck._

Ugh, _it barely felt like anything had gone into him as he was yet to start convulsing, or anything really. Or at least, that’s what happened with Slade before he turned out to be okay. Or as okay as someone could be after having someone they loved murdered._

_Still sniffling, Oliver snaps his eyes open at the sound of a loud slamming nearby. It’s heavy, like the clap of thunder that accompanies lightening. If his hands weren’t trapped behind him he would have made to shield his ears._

_Within seconds, there’s ringing in his ears and he sees Ivo crumple onto to the floor beside him. Safe, safe, it looks like he’d been saved, though the Beta is still moving, twitching inherently. Oliver could have rejoiced, if there wasn’t still a needle of Mirakuru very likely to kill him, still hanging out of his neck._

_Perhaps Ivo never got a chance to push the plunger down on it? As long as he could get it out, and nothing went wrong there, he might still be able to live yet._

_Ivo immediately begins to wheeze, the breath knocked out of his chest. Oliver can feel himself visibly pale, the Beta making clawing motions towards him._

_Out of fear, he makes to wriggle from out from his bindings despite knowing how useless it was. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with the bastard in front of him, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to him from getting up again. Help, he needed help—_

_When Slade flops down next to Ivo’s stiffening form, Oliver cries out again, forgetting for a moment he’s thoroughly gagged, relief flooding through him at the sight of Slade._

_It probably hasn’t even been forty-eight hours since he’d last seen the Alpha, but right now it feels like it could have been so much longer. So much longer as he had been confident that he wasn’t going to make it out of here alive, had since resigned himself to die._

_Slade still looks the same as the last time he’d seen him—really seen him, since he’d been elusive the past few days—Shado’s burial. Granted the Alpha was far filthier now then than, and also proceeding to smack the shit out of Ivo. Even practically mute, Oliver wasn’t going to argue against Slade’s decision to rip Ivo a new one, currently having his face pummelled in._

_The site of it makes Oliver’s stomach churn on top of his heat, though the Beta definitely deserved it._

_Shado was dead, and had Slade been much farther away, so too might have he been. Even though at the moment the Alpha is still glaring mad daggers at Ivo and hasn’t seemed to have taken much notice of him yet. The imminent threat of danger does leave him though._

_Still being panged by his heat at every slightest movement, Oliver doesn’t bother trying to wrestle Slade’s attention away from the dying breaths of Ivo._

_Vomit crawls up his throat at the bloody mess unfolding in front of him, the last few gurgles the Beta releases, coughing up blood. He can’t bring himself to be sympathetic for the bastard, at least now he was safe._

_How unfazed he’d become with death upfront over the last couple months should shock him, but right now he was just a shrivelling mess, reliant on Slade to come untie him._

_A moment passes, and then another, before Slade gets up from his haunches and the dishelmed remains of the Beta. It looks like Ivo had his face smashed in by a rock. Oliver almost thinks Slade must have been holding back as only now do they both seem certain that Ivo’s definitely gone._

_The Alpha’s strength was certainly intimidating, even before the Mirakuru. One punch could have possibly killed and the rest were just for insuring Ivo stayed dead._

_A small proportion of Oliver wants to fear Slade, tremble and submit in the wake of such a powerful Alpha._

_But Slade was his friend though, had just saved his life…_

_Remaining plonked down on the floor; the Alpha’s eyes finally meet his own for a moment. There’s relief in Slade’s eyes, quickly overshadowing the darkened rage there a second ago, where Oliver can only sob, hoping he looks as remorseful as he feels._

_Everything throbbed inside of him from menstrual cramps and heartache, just being alive now felt like something that was wasted on him._

_His pants were damp with his body’s natural lubricant, his face dry with that of tears._

_He didn’t deserve this, not after Slade, and no doubt Sara, were here to save his ass. Risking their lives for his completely worthless one. Thankfully, Slade doesn’t spend too much time looking at how humiliating Oliver imagines he appears. Hands still coated in blood, Slade weaves around him making for the bindings on his wrists._

_Rough hands at his back, in no time he’s free of his rope restraints. Slade backs up from him, giving him space while Oliver instantaneously goes to yank the deadly serum out of his neck. Pulling it out is quite piercing, like a bee’s sting, though only a small blight compared to all the other pain he was processing._

_Lightly, he rolls it across the floor away from it, careful not to throw it hard enough that it might break. They probably should get rid of it, but for now Oliver just wants it away from him and not trudging up memories he wants to permanently repress._

_Although the Alpha was proceeding to give him some semblance of privacy, Oliver could feel Slade’s eyes boring into him vigilantly._

_He doesn’t ask or say anything about what Ivo was doing with him, for which he’s quietly appreciative of._

_Wrists freed, Oliver gives them a rub to try and ebb some of the bruising setting in away, before pulling the gag out of his mouth. He remains seated, just licking his wounds and trying to compose himself the best he can. Also trying to avoid looking at the dead Beta too much. Even deceased he couldn’t stand the sight of the bastard._

_“Thanks,” Oliver croaks, not looking at Slade and all the less sure of what to actually say to him._

_What could he say?_

Hey, thanks for saving my worthless ass again, sorry I didn’t do the same for Shado.

_Disappointment, anger, distaste, whatever emotions Slade’s face held for him, he didn’t want to see it. They don’t say anything to one another for a moment._

_So it surprises Oliver when Slade doesn’t scold him, like he always did, for his insolence._

_“’You alright, kid? I didn’t know if…” the Alpha trails off, and Oliver knows what he’s getting at._

_For a moment there, he wasn’t sure if he was lying dead on the floor himself or not._

_It causes his breath to hitch in his throat and he almost laughs. Not at the Alpha’s small show of seemingly concern, but at his own inability to look after himself. How incredibly embarrassing._

_Normally he would have never cared what people thought about him, but he respected Slade._

_In the beginning, Slade had been hesitant to take him on, a fragile Omega. Which he’d known the truth about his dynamic almost straight away. The Alpha had a nose like a bloodhound after all, no doubt trained to scent out dynamics and abnormalities in people’s scent. It made him all the more nervous when Slade berated him about trying to teach an Omega survival skills would just be asking for the death of both of them._

_It worked out though, he proved to be a tough enough Omega that the Alpha would waste some of his time on him, trying to shape him into something worthwhile._

Well, that didn’t really work out, now did it?

_As here he was now snivelling, prompting Slade to come over to him and reach out for him attentively._

_“Hey, I’m sorry,” Slade apologizes, lowering himself to the floor, “I should have been here sooner.”_

_Oliver chokes, pushing himself backwards and putting his hands out, in an attempt to keep Slade from coming any closer._

_Although he trusts the Alpha, he was still an Alpha where he was an Omega just starting to come to the pinnacle of his heat. Something that could usually last hours and only now was he starting to pay it much attention. Before he was a bit more preoccupied with the life-or-death situation of Ivo murdering him._

_With that issue now firmly out of the way, Oliver could focus at the potentially more disastrous situation at hand._

_He was most definitely in heat and Slade was coming towards him. Albeit gingerly._

xxxxxxxx

Slade Wilson did not understand Oliver Queen at all.

At least not post-island, city-dwelling  _Beta_  Oliver.

Beta, that should have been funny, that the kid tried and continued to hide his dynamic so thoroughly, his personality giving away no tell-tale signs of an Omega, but it just wasn’t. It was stupid, though even his nose was slightly fooled by the scent blocker—key word, slightly.

The rest of him was conflicted between natural impulses and feeling like he is been made an idiot out of.

An idiot because although he’d long known that Oliver was an Omega, his head could still protest otherwise. That currently he was being challenged by another Alpha, or at least a very hot-blooded Beta. Under normal circumstances, Slade dislikes even being challenged by the likes of Sebastian; Oliver however, is a whole other nuisance onto itself.

Oliver’s attitude has completely changed from earlier. He hadn’t knocked him out that hard either, hell didn’t even use force to put him out.

Alpha instinct told him he had an inclined, inviting and ready Omega that he should put out of its misery. Not like how Oliver probably expected he might have been put out of his misery.

Pheromones didn’t lie either, and Oliver’s—although discreet—smelt like sweet vanilla.

Even if pheromones weren’t dynamic-exclusive, those that Omegas gave off in heat were exceptionally important. The potency of that scent, although liable to a lot of other factors as well, usually dictated how fertile they were and if they were ready to bear young. An Omega’s richness was less susceptible to falsehood as it told the no-lie facts of whether they were keen for sensuality or not.

Furious, cool, distraught, maybe even plain confused Oliver, Slade was prepared for.  Carnal fury and near-on hysteria is not what he was expecting. Not to mention, Oliver smelt ripe, not something he could just lie about and try to snuff over him as an Alpha. That meant he was eager, although why was beyond Slade. Maybe snatching Oliver off the streets in an attempt to protect him was the wrong course of action; especially now that he was leading the other to a bedroom.

What the  _hell_  was he doing?

It’s been years since he’d last bedded anyone, more so years for that person to have been an Omega.

Omegas were scarce in the military fields, though it wasn’t impossible for them to bulk up, just unlikely. It was just more often than not seen as hazardous to put society’s best raisers and bearers of children in the crossfires of war. Beta females had begun to bust out into the fields the past decade, but that also meant Omegas were slacked more with rebuilding society, should it ever come to that.

They were also incredibly frail, if he did say so himself. Like annoyingly weak. Not necessarily build-wise, just hormonal-wise, and Oliver should possibly consider himself lucky he was never that irritating or he possibly would have killed him back on Lian Yu. From what he’d seen of them, Oliver had also been a whinger through most of his heats.

Now he just seemed pissy,  _joy_.

Thinking back, the last person Slade had sex with could have actually been a fellow Alpha. Which was starting to get weird in the eyes of society, but was what you had to deal with saddled with wartime.

Oliver letting himself into the room, Slade decides he needs a drink, preferably something strong, as this situation was starting to go beyond him.

This was one of the only rooms he kept the fridges actively stocked with alcohol in, hence him quickly relegating here, rather than one of the larger rooms that had seen lesser use.

Oliver drops his handful of vigilante related gear off to one side of the king-sized bed before turning around to gawk at him.  _What now?_

“What are you doing?” the Omega half-hisses as he pulls a bottle of whisky from a miniature fridge.

Oliver crosses his hands over his chest, though whether to hide his modesty or not was unsure. The kid’s already sweating again and twitching obviously out of his own control. The fun being on suppressants for extended periods of time must have been.

“I need to get pissed for this,” he gruffly responds, pouring a large heaping of alcohol into a glass.

Shot glasses were not going to work. Slade had long since worked out he needed around a blood alcohol concentration of zero-point twenty or higher before even starting to feel seriously incapacitated. That’s four times over the legal driving limit for a normal person.

Also possibly the biggest con to having been injected with the Mirakuru. It would take him several bottles of the heavy stuff to soothe his grief when he got going.

Right now, a bottle should keep from strangling Oliver and nearly killing him during intercourse. He hasn’t tried to do anything of the sort since the island, mainly because it was stupid and wasn’t exactly getting him anywhere.

Sex involved  _way_  more control than Slade thought he was now capable of now, possibly a by-product of his poisoned mind, and having Oliver toss his clothes off willy-nilly was not helping.

He doubts the Omega has ever been with an Alpha before  _properly_ , so no matter what he’d need to go— _wait_ , _wait_. When and why did he agree to this?

_Fucking heat pheromones._

This was why he only let Blood keep Alphas and Betas under his scrutiny. Omegas were asking for trouble, even if they were out of sight and out of mind. Oliver particularly who had to be the most aggressive Omega Slade had ever met, and also really wanted to be knotted right now.

The latter of which he should be very suspicious, as even with Shado, sex seemed to be a no-no for Oliver if he was expected to be the receiving partner.

It made more sense that the Omega would be trying to seductively ensnare him to try and pull something. Possibly drug him or do something to incapacitate him as Oliver’s seems to have found out that he cannot win here by brute force. Or really at all. Though the more Slade has watched a conscious Oliver in his presence, the more the other had dropped his weapons and let his guard down.

Even with the limbs of his bow cracked and still adamantly looking like he’d try to make sloppy usage of it.

Oliver was dropping all his cards on the table, he knew that, and so did Slade.

So the only viable non-stupid conclusion that Slade could come to was Blood’s preacher had drugged him or something of the sort, and Oliver wasn’t himself, which he’d kill the Beta for if Oliver was seriously damaged.

The former seems unlikely though and that would mean now Oliver wanted to have sex of his own free will, or as consensual as an Omega’s choice could be when they were blinded by heat.  

Especially now that he’s coming over half-flaunting himself in Slade’s face.

“Do I fluster you that much?” Oliver coos teasingly, watching him down a glass of hard liquor.

“No, you irritate me this much,” Slade growls back.

Oliver plonks his upper body down onto the granite bench of the kitchenette.

With his shirt off it was obvious the scars he’d accumulated since they’d last seen one another were many and there was little skin left on him unscathed. Slade doesn’t even think he has that many scars from years of field missions.

The scars probably looked especially unsightly on an Omega but they showed strength through sufferance.

Omega… Oliver no longer looked the standard Omega.

He was always tall—Omegas males had to be to compensate for the amount of room having both sets of reproductive systems took up, granted one was almost completely vestigial. Any Alpha who thought they needed to be smaller like their female counterparts was just stupid; their internal organs would get too cluttered up. Their ability to reproduce would probably give out before their vital organs did too.

Whereas before Oliver’s height was coupled with the typical litheness of the dynamic, now it was accompanied by toned muscles and flexed tendons. The appearance should have looked weird, given he was an Omega, but it looked like he’d filled out nicely during the past few years.

 _Jesus_ —Blood really should have been doing an interrogation on the Vigilante right now. The Arrow he might have trusted Blood with, Oliver however… no.

Pouring another glass, Oliver just huffs at Slade.

“My body is ready, why aren’t you? Making me wait…”

Slade coughs whilst drinking, half-laughing.

There was an underling whine there, though Slade manages to resist what it entails in favour of greater reason. Reason he needed to talk into Oliver before he jumped him and it all went to hell regardless.

“You idiot, you ain’t ready at all.”

Granted the waves of pheromones coming off Oliver might have suggested otherwise, he was not ready to the standard that Slade was comfortable enough to let himself go around the other. It was too late now to think about backing out so now just to work out the damage control.

“Does  _this_  not look ready to you?” Oliver flails his arms over himself hissing, “I don’t think I can get any more ready than this.”

Lifting an eyebrow in response, Slade leaves the kitchenette to fully face the Omega.

So needy, blue eyes blown dark with desire. It should have been enough to snap Slade’s self-control, a long time ago it would have, but right now he knows he could still kill Oliver for vengeance’s sake.

What the hell, fucking his brains out was vengeance enough for now.

Oliver shivers, arms cradling the sides of his abdomen.

“You’re in pain. ‘Ain’t gonna work if you’re in pain,” the Alpha gruffly explains.

Snorting, Oliver just closes the distance between them and pulls Slade’s eyes up to better meet his by the Alpha’s tie. Their eyes are both dark, slowly dilating from being in close vicinity of the heat pheromones.

“Put me out of my pain then,” Oliver growls.

The notion of sound is quickly cut off from him and turns into a yelp, Slade pushing him backwards, so they tripped over onto the bed. Oliver wheezes at the impact though immediately smirks afterwards having the Alpha on top of him.

An expected reaction, no doubt the one Oliver wanted.

Flipping Oliver onto his stomach with ease, Slade gravitates his hands to above the back of Oliver’s waistband, hands on his waist, still leaning over him. The positioning is awkward though Oliver quickly loosens up as much as possible, going lax and submissive whilst leering over his shoulder at Slade.

It no doubt fires him up again when the Alpha isn’t taking his pants off then.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asks irritably, the Alpha rubbing his thumbs over the small of his back.

Slade doesn’t cease what he’s doing though, just continues firmly stroking around the spine of Oliver underneath him.

Was Slade teasing him? Was that it? The Alpha didn’t seem the type to do it but his ass was right there between Slade’s thighs and he didn’t seem to care. He was sticky with sweat and Slade no doubt was feeling the dampness of his pants against his leg.

Yet, he wasn’t doing anything about it.

_What an asshole._

Oliver goes to slap his hands away and pull out from underneath Slade when the other’s hands clasp down over his own.

“I’m helping you, stupid.”

“Well, you could help me more by fucking me.”

“Nuh-uh kid. You’re cramping like crazy and tense as hell, I can’t work with that.”

“Get it over with then, the sooner the better!”

Slade just quirks an eyebrow at Oliver even as the Omega rolls over onto his back to better glare at him.

“I was massaging your pressure points, relives menstrual cramps,” Slade explains, “Beta females in the ASIS used to do it, even though they don’t get heats, they still suffer every month too.”

Oliver wants to call bullshit, that Slade was just making him wait even longer, though through his fury he notices the stabbing in his gut does seem to have lessened.

A dull ache was still there though the worst of it seemed to have blown over. Surprise must have crossed his face as Slade just smiles smugly back at him, knowing he was right.

“How hard is it to stick your knot in my ass?” Oliver just settles for taking another jab at Slade, too annoyed to thank him for elevating his pain even slightly.

Having an Alpha so close to him and not doing anything remotely interesting was driving him nuts. Granted, he still had a plan and Slade was a force to be reckoned with, his higher reasoning was gradually going out the window due to combined aphrodisiacs and pain flooding his body.

“Very,” Slade responds to his remark, “especially because I doubt you’ve ever been with an Alpha.”

Oliver just snorts.

“Who says I haven’t? I bet I’ve had more sex than you have.”

Slade tilts his head to one side, hoping off the bed while in the process of taking off his suit jacket.  _True, but…_

Oliver flips back over on the bed, onto his knees, wading over to Slade so they’re about eye height.

“Not like this you haven’t.”

Oliver’s eyes indicate a challenge before Slade swiftly tackles him back downwards. The satin sheets cushion Oliver’s fall well enough though don’t stop the mixed cry of pain and pleasure the Omega lets out when Slade grips his wrists.

Above the blonde’s head, Slade tightly pulls Oliver’s wrists between one hand. It wasn’t tight enough that he felt the need to struggle but enough to assure him that he was meant to be compliant with whatever the Alpha wanted to do. For now, that was enough for Oliver, flexing his arms to test the strength of Slade’s hold on him.

“Don’t move,” Slade warns, using his free hand to pull apart his necktie.

“Is that a threat?”

Twitching slightly, Oliver finds Slade’s grasp to be rock solid. He keeps his legs angled close up around his body, not sure what to expect yet.

Slade just makes gradual work of pulling his clothes off—albeit not forcefully—, awkwardly with one hand. The buttons look to be a struggle and this close Oliver can tell from the way the Alpha’s eyes were blown dark his insides were probably going just as crazy as his own were. Only the needy whimpers leaving him and the raspy breathes from Slade broke their continued silence.

Appearing to give up on undoing his shirt after the first couple buttons, Slade just lunges forward, latching onto him.

In an instant the Alpha’s teeth are grating over the tendons in his neck, pulling the flesh there into his hot mouth. He shivers as the stubble of the man equally teases over his skin.

It’s almost violent, the hard suck of Slade’s lips in the crook of his neck and it makes Oliver buck up into the other still elevated over him. The force of his thrust isn’t enough to break Slade’s kiss on him but is enough to have his pelvis meet the Alpha’s own.

There he meets the other man’s hardening length, Oliver gasping as their bodies fully touch, even if it is only momentarily. Slade growls, a low rumble that vibrates through his entire chest, moving down the Omega’s throat and leaving gradual bruising in his wake with his sucking.

Arms still trapped above him, Oliver pushes up as much as his upper body will allow him, taking in the man’s heady scent trapped beneath his shirt.

It’s deep, rich—Slade’s scent—and he strains his back muscles just trying to edge closer to Slade so he can put his mouth on the other as well, the Alpha steadily moving downwards to his chest, though keeping Oliver where he was.

His body quivers, muscles spasming for a moment,  instinctively producing a fresh bout of wet liquid in preparation for what was about to happen. Teeth buried into his lip, Oliver remains ever silent so as not to unleash a slur of curse words.

That control shatters as Slade runs his tongue over Oliver’s left nipple.

Oliver moans though nothing eligible, the Alpha taking his perky nub between his teeth. Clawing his hands open, the Omega fists handfuls of air up whilst Slade swirls his tongue over his nipple. The free hand the Alpha had was clasping and rubbing his left pectoral, further pushing him into the man’s mouth.

Crying out, Oliver rubs his burning arousal against Slade’s own he knows is there, hidden in the man’s trousers. The Alpha was now low enough on him it was no longer tiresome to jerk up towards him. Nipping lightly at his chest, Slade signals that Oliver’s frustrated thrusts have been noticed and his grasp loosens on the Omega’s restrained arms.

It might have been an error on Slade’s part though Oliver uses that lack of restraint to bust out of the Alpha’s now lax grip, clawing into the man’s hair despite its length.

It’s coarse and wiry, Oliver gripping around the nape of Slade’s neck to pull himself closer to the other.

“Mind yourself, kid,” Slade growls, giving Oliver’s firm nipple a last flick before leaving it unattended to address the Omega.

Upon closer examination he notices there’s dark bruising across Oliver’s chest, obviously not from him, he’s being exceedingly careful right now. It further pisses him off that Blood hasn’t listened to him, would try to take out the Vigilante that was also  _his_  Oliver. But he tries not to let it show.

Oliver nearly whines at the Alpha’s lack of caressing on his chest, yet Slade’s hands quickly weave down to his waistline like they had done before.  Interest blooms in him again just as quickly as it had died off, fire dancing inside his stomach.

It’s been so long; so long since he was last capable of experiencing pleasure during one of his dreaded heats. Tommy had died nearly eight months ago, that was now bordering on ten since he’d last let anyone see him this vulnerable.

Especially vulnerable, considering this was Slade Wilson, who so far all factors pointed to him wanting to take everything away from him. Utterly destroy him, though Slade wasn’t the only one capable of exploiting weakness.

Clambering his limbs over the Alpha’s body and trying to speed up the achingly long process of foreplay—Oliver notes, this is not one of them: a weakness he had that could be exploited. Omega or not, Oliver had made a conscious decision to let himself go around Slade. His dynamic might have supposably predetermined a lot of things about him but what it didn’t have any say over was whether or not he was weak.

And he wasn’t, considering Oliver was capable of thinking that and thrusting his aching cock up into his potential worst enemy’s face all in the same moment.

His hands are sprawled over the tense muscles of the Alpha’s back, face nuzzled into the brunette’s shoulders as he tries, for the most part unsuccessfully, to get Slade to move on top of him. Just do something already!

“God, you’re just about begging for it aren’t you, kid?” Slade says, remaining ever immobile and seemingly in control of the situation, hands flexing over his waist.

Slade’s eyes looked bored though from the stiffened stance of his body he was still holding back.

Why did this always happen? When he wanted an Alpha to fuck him they just spent a lot more time waiting than actually did doing anything.

And Slade was calling him kid again? Where did that come from?

“Don’t call me that! I’m not a kid anymore, never was,” Oliver corrects, referring back to their time on the island.

Twenty-two is legally an adult—how old he was when he first washed up on Lian Yu—and he’ll be twenty-nine in May.

“You’re still a kid to me; look at you can barely contain yourself!”

Quickly Oliver’s attempts at getting the Alpha to initiate intimacy with him again die off, knowing how ridiculous he must look. The sting from Slade’s words doesn’t brush off him as easily though.

The Alpha still on top of him, Oliver’s cups the man’s apparent erection, growling. Slade seems to shudder beneath his touch, no doubt his cock liking the rubbing, though mentally debating what to do from here. Neither mind nor matter seems to win out there as Slade just prowls above him, imposing overhead so that their noses graze and their eyes are locked.

Oliver can see the clouded, no doubt, mixed emotions in Slade’s face yet he doesn’t cease stroking his length and handling its thickness as best he can through fabric.

“Fuck you!” Slade stutters out, the Omega practically sending all the blood he had in his body down to his dick.

“Then do so!” Oliver cheekily retorts, almost certain the man is growing impossibly harder beneath his touches.

Legs still for the most part spread; Oliver is yanked out of that position when Slade practically removes all the clothing on his lower body with one swift tug. Jerking upwards to better allow the removal of his clothing, he sets to returning Slade’s favour, pulling the last of the Alpha’s shirt apart.

It’s a quick but tedious process and Oliver’s mouth almost waters when he unveils the Alpha’s bronzed skin underneath all the annoying fabric.

Maybe it was just his over-hyped imagination riding the pheromones but Slade had always been an attractive Alpha. Embodied what a younger Oliver expected most Alphas to be like, especially if he was expected to be married off to one of them.

Broad-shouldered, well-chiselled body carved from marble, muscles pulled taut over his stomach in anticipation. Underneath all that immaculate clothing, Slade still looked the same as he did nearly six years ago.

It was surreal, just knowing the Alpha was alive, had survived… here in Starling City, and possibly even was out for blood for what had happened between them.  Would hurt those he loved before he hurt Oliver because that would cut him far worse.

That aggravated him, made him dig his nails in around the man’s chest, leaving half-moon crescents there even though Slade barely seemed to notice.

Robbing Oliver of all clothing, jocks swiped down lastly in one rough tug, the Alpha equally angles himself upwards once done stripping him to allow Oliver to push his unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders and arms.

Bucking upwards, Oliver grips his lower body around Slade’s, manoeuvring his legs over one another to kick his boots off. The Omega’s hard cock springs up against his abdomen, fabric barriers gone, and already starting to leak precome. 

Oliver’s hot breath caresses over Slade’s shoulders, fingers still kneading into the contours of the Alpha’s body, feeling him and inflicting mild needles of pain as he went. He bites the skin over Slade’s neck just like the Alpha had done his own; splitting the skin between his teeth almost as hard as he possibly could to deprive pleasure from the man.

Slade doesn’t seem to take it that well, pressing an equally biting and smothering kiss into Oliver’s neck.

It entices the Omega to moan, releasing his bite, his arousal brushing up across Slade’s abdomen. It sends shudders through the Alpha’s body along with him watching a collar of bruises slowly start to appear around Oliver’s neck.

“Touch me again, dammit!”  Oliver pants, dropping off from Slade and making for the man’s belt.

His body had been prepped enough now; cock achingly hard against his stomach as he reached to free Slade’s own. Between his thighs was constantly sticky, body exuding more and more pheromones to try and draw the Alpha onto him, break his stubborn self-control. If he could just do that, he would be free from this agony gripping him.

Ready or not, he wanted Slade’s knot now.

Slade allows him to thread his belt out through the loops of his pants, even somewhat going to help him when Oliver starts to lose his patience and just tugs away at the thing. Oliver huffs in irritation, waiting for the Alpha to pry off the rest of his clothing before attacking him again. Even eyeing hungrily the man’s erection, straining the fabric of his soon-to-be-gone trousers.

It should be weird for Oliver, mucking around with a guy again, or not really a guy—just an Alpha. He’d always avoiding trying to have sex with men of his own dynamic, never quite sure what to do with himself there, even being the sexual deviant he was several  years back. His friends, family, people like Tommy, they all thought he was a Beta so the thought of being the recipient partner had always been foreign to him.

Even when biology clearly argued otherwise.

He had played with this fire before though—Slade—and had gotten burned. Right now that doesn’t matter; everything else could just be put on the back burner for the moment.

Once Slade tosses aside his remaining clothing, the Omega throws himself back onto the man, pushing him fully back onto the bed, careful so they don’t fall off it.

Now sitting on top of the Slade’s torso, their eyes meet, noses brushing against one another as Oliver pants rubbing his cock over the Alpha’s stomach. Slade’s features try to remain indifferent to his approaches but quickly twist into a wicked grin, fingers cupping under his chin to edge them closer.

Slade does not kiss Oliver on the lips, nor does Oliver make any attempts to do the same. That way they both know that this is not love. It is hatred in its purest form, where it dilutes and merges with lust, but a paragon of love.

Even if Oliver wasn’t in heat, Slade doesn’t know how long he could have lasted. Not forever, that much was certain.

“I could break your spine like a twig,” Slade threatens, low in Oliver’s ear, warm breath tickling across the Omega’s throat.

To enforce that thought, Slade makes sure to clasp his hands over Oliver’s waist tightly, putting pressure there even if the slight yelp the Omega makes is not one of pain.

“That wouldn’t be much fun, now would it? Then you’d have a hard time pulling your knot out of my ass,” Oliver chides, edging himself down the man so his arousal there was nudging against his own wet hole.

“Maybe so,” Slade smirks, moving slightly so his length grazes over Oliver’s outer ring of muscle, “but…”

Oliver whimpers, face going stupid with pleasure before Slade jerks up out from underneath him.

Quickly Oliver’s in the same position they started in, the Alpha breathing down his neck above him, only this time he tries eagerly to pull the man’s cock into him. Slade easily slaps his hands away from his thick girth though, pushing Oliver’s legs up beside the Omega’s chest.

“That’s my call to make,” Slade rumbles, hands gliding back down Oliver’s legs to his entrance.

Instinctively Oliver’s whole body clenches, Slade sliding his middle finger inside him. It sends a burning sensation through his spine though he imagines it could have been a lot worse. Had Oliver not been turned on as hell or currently not had the benefit of so much natural lubricant slicking up the process.

Breathing fast, he has to tilt his head back to try and get some blood back to his brain, gone half-loopy from a single motion.

“You’re so tight,” Slade states the obvious, “told you so, you weren’t ready before.”

Relaxing is difficult for Oliver, being put in a position he’s only had experience with once before. Slowly he manages, fingers untangling from where he’s been marring the bed sheets and body loosening its death-hold on Slade’s digit.

The Alpha’s unceremonious with his probing however; hastily pushing up further into his insides the moment Oliver allows even the slightest passage.

It’s a snug fit; even for Slade’s finger, yet the inner walls of the Omega’s hole were moist and wet, allowing him to creep up there without giving Oliver too much obvious discomfort. He damn well knew it! It wouldn’t do well for either of them if Oliver was too tight to be expected to accommodate a dick. Especially his Alpha dick and knot.

No doubt neither would be getting in there if Oliver wasn’t going to let him.

Swiftly though not violently, Slade makes for the Omega’s double sphincter. Growling, he finds it tighter than just about everything else.   _It was not going to fit…_

Oliver just goes red in the face, legs kicking into Slade’s shoulders as the man brushes over his prostate, a shower of sparks going off in his stomach. That is before the Alpha rubs over the other channel of flesh up there.

Oliver hisses, having to making a conscious effort to do so as his cock quivered and trickled out a little more fluid.

His body protested yes, but his mind warned no—even though he should…  _No_ , this was the one shred of pleasure he would not allow Slade to deprive from him. Snarling Oliver fists into the Alpha’s hair, knowing full well the other could get whatever he wanted by force.

Slade remains calm though, even wide-eyed and stroking over the Omega’s inner pleasure spots.

“We are not getting anywhere unless you loosen up in there for me.”

“Bullshit, I’m not going to let you stick your cock in there!”

Slade was not taking  _that_  from him, although technically Oliver wasn’t a virgin.

“If you don’t loosen your tight arse up, it’s going to be a hell of a lot more painful for you, kid,” Slade advises, pulling his finger out from inside Oliver.

The painful sensation that had mostly dissipated with the Alpha poking around inside him flares up again as he pulls out from him hastily.

Slade had a point though even he’s done the old ‘it-won’t-fit’ lie on girls before to get them to do what  _he_  wanted. Granted, he hadn’t studied the man’s cock that much other than ogling it in anticipation for when he’d get to have it inside him.

It was definitely big, Alpha standard, though it should fit—should. Oliver hasn’t taken enough dicks to be quite sure what his anatomy would pleasantly take in.

_Still…_

“Just do it already!” Oliver cries, just intent on seeing what happens.

Although Oliver didn’t make a conscious effort of it, an Omega male’s secondary tract was naturally sealed tight unless aroused or heavy with child. He might have been overwhelmingly turned on though that didn’t stop the coil of anxiety in the pit of his stomach and therefore almost everything else inside of him was being pulled rigid.

Slade doesn’t seem to mind anymore yet, promptly sheathing himself inside of Oliver the moment he gets the initiative to.

Oliver yelps at the swift movement, not terribly from pain thankfully. Last minute the Alpha had thrown the Omega’s legs over his own shoulders for better ease of entry. It only took him one sturdy buck of the hips to push into Oliver. About half of his cock still remained outside the Omega and that was going to be the annoying part. At least Oliver was still actively slicking himself up, albeit now laying his head back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded.

“’You right?” Slade has to ask, shifting forward slightly to drop Oliver’s legs down so his arms are on either side of the Omega’s shoulders.

“Yeah—ah, I just didn’t expect you to be so…” Oliver doesn’t finish and the Alpha just half rolls his eyes in response.

_Stupid kid._

The Omega is hasty in linking his arms and legs around Slade for leverage however, angling his hips upward to slide in more of the man’s dick.

“Move,” Oliver urges.

“Alright, kid.”

Using the Omega’s own body as leverage, Slade relegates his hands to Oliver’s shoulders before thrusting smoothly inwards. Oliver immediately cries out, forcing himself to ease up but still feeling the Alpha’s cock firmly in his insides.

He both loves and hates having Slade buried deep within him though the whimpers he releases obviously egg the man on all the same.

Snarling like a wild animal, Slade seems to let lust overtake him, snapping his hips forward so that their bodies are almost entirely connected. With every movement the Alpha backs out of him and then comes back into him a little deeper. It’s so slow,  _so fucking slow_ , yet it allows him to take Slade inch by inch until there’s nothing left outside of him and he can feel the man’s balls rub between his thighs.

More precome begins to tickle down his length and if it wasn’t for Slade pressed so tightly and heavy over him Oliver might have even made to speed up his own climax. Even though he still hates the man for what he’s done, having his cock run over Slade’s abs fills him with bliss, balls further tightening.

After what feels like an eternity, Slade’s slow and gradual movements cease as the man jams himself up inside of Oliver’s double sphincter that he’s finally been kind enough to open up. Oliver’s not quite sure when he loosened up enough to allow the Alpha to easily slide in there yet there was no going back now as he moans wildly with enthusiasm.

Slade sets the pace at relentless and unforgiving, Oliver realising instantly to tilt his hips upward as much as possible to better accommodate the man’s girth. The bed creaks underneath them, Slade pounding as seemingly deep and fast into him as possible. Thrusting up inside of him into pure warmth where his prostate was also sending fireworks off in his head from the harsh rubbings it was enduring.

Oliver was sure the man would leave bruises over his already battered body though at least these ones would be by his own choice.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” Slade begins to murmur with every thrust.

He wasn’t going to kill Oliver; right now he was going to exert his dominance over that little shit. Thinking he could just come in here being totally ungrateful, for what Slade did for him, then just tease him!  _No, no,_  that’s not how it worked. It might have been sinking to the lowest of his natural instincts but at the end of the day a feisty Omega was an offensive Omega.

“No you—ah, no you don’t,” Oliver breaths out in between light moans.

“You hurt me, of course I hate you!” Slade scolds, growing flustered as he feels his knot begin to swell.

“You hurt me first, and you would have done me far worse than I you!” Oliver retorts, head bouncing up and down as Slade fucks him half-violently.

Oliver’s still grappling his limbs over Slade’s back, nothing but sensation coiling in his abdomen as he tried to remain mad at the Alpha. Slade just grunts back at him, obviously finding it hard to do the same—stay mad with an impending orgasm right on top of him.

They both seem to give up in that regard, just shut up and rock ritualistically back and forth against one another as their conversation is reduced to quiet grunts and moans.

Oliver keens, body tensing around Slade’s cock, as he finally comes, seed spilling up onto the Alpha’s torso. It drives Slade to do the same, thrusting himself into the Omega as far as possible, knot swelling completely. Within seconds Oliver yelps, knot locking inside of him as the Alpha’s comes, scalding his insides.

Everything inside of him tenses, refusing to let the other man go, though the carnal fury once gripping him does die off.  Fucked and knotted, exactly what he needed.

Dropping off of Slade, Oliver can’t bring himself to care when the man flops down on top of him, cock still keeping them tied. He wants to hiss and push the Alpha away, knowing a true knotting could last ten to twenty minutes which was far too many spent next to the other.

There’s no fight left in him though, even if there was if would have evaporated quickly at what suddenly happens.

Both still shuddering, Slade presses his lips over Oliver’s own.

It is the lightest flutter of kisses. Restrained, sweet—not at all dominating like he’d previously been.

And it quickly ends as the Alpha draws off him, pretending like nothing had ever happened, leaning back so they’re as far away as possible. Oliver doesn’t make an attempt to pursue Slade’s short-glimpsed show of... well, he doesn’t really know.

There was only one time Slade had done something like that before. Kissed him.

It was back to a time and place he didn’t really want to think about, the Omega quickly pushing it aside as he lets his mind drift off to sleep.

Only one thought really crosses his mind as he feels a small sliver of victory creep through him.

Mission no doubt certainly accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Turritopsis dohrnii_ is a jellyfish found in the waters off Japan. Why it’s so special is that it can revert its cell to younger versions of its self. Theoretically, this cycle could continue indefinitely, so the jellyfish is practically immortal.


	5. What You Sow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t already guessed, the final part of Oliver’s flashback does not go well. Even _I_ was feeling a bit conflicted to write it, so it may be a tad triggery—though granted nothing too much happens. So forewarning, both parties are ready to have consensual intimacy, one of them makes it _unintentionally_ —I stress this very much—rough, and things escalate quickly.

Sometime during Oliver’s post-orgasm induced haze-like state, Slade rolls off him. It’s immediately apparent, not just because of the lack of weight on top of him but the sharp sting that accompanies the Alpha swiftly pulling out of him. Obviously the knot had deflated enough so that Slade could break the tie without rupturing his dick but it still has him make a muffled groan, knot detaching from somewhere deep inside of him.

Neither of them seem to have the energy to move so Oliver just keeps his eyes shut when Slade ruffles under the sheets nearby, then disturbing him. It’s not draughty inside of Slade’s mass headquarters, yet Oliver quickly moves to do the same, not sure about laying openly naked in potential enemy territory. At least under the sheets he possibly wouldn’t feel constantly on edge despite fighting to stay awake.

Having sex with people you presumably hated, or just didn’t so much like, wasn’t so bad as the aftermath. Sharing a bed with someone you’d rather not being around was an almost disgusting feeling. That’s why in previous scenarios, he’s been quick to hightail it out of there after he’d gotten off. That responsibility probably falls to him here again, being the guest, though it isn’t nearly as awful as he would have expected.

At least Oliver thinks he can stand to be in Slade’s presence without wanting to hit him, though that could also be heat hormones tipping him in favour of being passive.

Not looking over at the other, Oliver hops out of bed and to his feet. Dropping his feet to the floor, he finally notices he’s still wearing his socks, having not managed to kick them off along with his boots.  When he goes to yank them off he notices he’s also thankfully stopped lubricating. Everything is high and dry down there, albeit sticky and it feels like he could really go for a shower about now.

Again, if he had the energy to move or care.

Considering Oliver’s never been  _correctly_  knotted before now, which is the only  _proper_  way to end an Omega’s heat, other than waiting it out or just otherwise screwing around—which even then involved it’s fair share of waiting around—he isn’t sure what to expect.

An almost instantaneous poof, boom, heat urges for the most part gone, was not it. That was putting his expectations a little bit too high but that’s the circumstance Oliver finds himself in.

_Shit, well that was quick._

Re-climbing into the bed, doubting his ability to navigate his way home or even the hallways of the apartments, Oliver faces his back to Slade. The only light in the room is the dim-glowing city outside and chucking glances over his shoulder, he can’t entirely see or be sure if the Alpha is still awake or not. He’s not sure why he still cares but it feels like letting his guard down to Oliver if he rests first. Oliver tries to convince himself he was just being hormonal, far too apologetic because of his heat. Flooding his mind with stupid nonsense.

Shifting, he finds sleep to be coming nowhere near as easily or quickly as it seemed to want to before. He was still tired, though he only seemed to be ruminating in his thoughts. Although Slade is barely a couple inches away from him it feels like they’re worlds apart.  A world apart that Oliver spent a long time returning from, not sure if he ever wanted to go back to. Not with the memories it trudged up and his inability to ever bring any closure to  _that_  situation.

At least he can now, though he’s not sure if it’s the closure he wants, nor the type he ever would have expected. Just like with Sara’s ‘death’ and her recent return. This time round, with Slade, it’s a lot more complicated and painful and it has heartache radiating throughout his entire body.

Choking back any notion of sound from him, Oliver has to bring himself to  _ask_.

“Why didn’t you say anything back then? You could have told me… you liked me like that… and it wasn’t just the pheromones or some other shit,” he whispers, not sure if Slade hears him or is even conscious to.

This newfound knowledge is something that had bothered him once or twice in the past, now it’s far more acute however. Oliver doesn’t have an easier time putting it into context though he does know if he knew what he knew now back then, he could have understood.

He would have understood then.

Drifting off to sleep Oliver does not sleep well, remembering only the time where he’s sure it all went wrong between him and Slade.

xxxxxxxx

_Covered in bodily fluids and muck—most of which Oliver imagines is from Ivo—Slade still manages the difficult task of trying to look sincere—which is weird for him—attempting to placate him. Slade looks like he’s trying to coax a wounded animal out, and not to bite him either. Oliver currently doesn’t have the cool of mind for a fight-or-flight situation, nor the energy to execute one._

_All of his energy has just been spent fretting over the lives of his friends and whether or not he might ever get to see them again._

_A gloved hand is placed over his cheek, and it’s only a matter of time before Slade notices his jitters aren’t just from having a real right scare._

_“You shouldn’t…” he whispers, placing a hand over the Alpha’s own and removing it from his face._

_Normally he would have been happy for Slade not to have been coming at him with harsh training regiments and just generally seeming to give a shit about how he was feeling. But in this situation, up-close and personal was the last thing he wanted with an Alpha._

_Even if they were currently trying to look at for him, that couldn’t possibly last forever._

_Majority of his heats on the island had consisted of the ever-present feeling of doom setting in and then Oliver would hightail it away from the rest of the group and hide out in the forest. He’d usually be gone for twenty-four hours max, the whole thing a nightmare of being unable to hold any substance in his stomach and rolling in dirt to best conceal his pheromones._

_When he came back, Slade and Shado never would pry as to where he’d been, knowing all too well. Only Slade would think aloud that he could have gone off and gotten himself killed, or gave away their position as well. Both Alphas were intimidating enough on their own; the thought alone of being bound to one of them was motivation enough for Oliver to stagger through miles of shrub to eventually stop somewhere he deemed a safe enough hiding place._

_Shado always seemed to think it was funny, she’d say that Oliver should trust them around him more, that they’d both show him a good time if he’d just let them. Oliver had to remind himself multiple times, that although Shado was a girl—and he was a sucker at the first sign of a woman on this male-dominated island—she was still an Alpha._

_And she had a dick hidden inside of her somewhere, so he’d be the one getting fucked in the ass there._

_Only once or twice in the past had Oliver tried to do an Alpha before, and both times he’d been too drunk to make anything good out of it or realize she could just as easily have turned around and been doing him._

_Scary, even if Shado might have joked that if Slade wasn’t around Oliver would be so much more comfortable with the idea of sex. Which was in no way was true, really she was the more worrisome one as he was more likely to let himself go around a girl than a guy._

_They were both really attractive Alphas, don’t get him wrong, but when the chance of Bonding was around fifty percent or higher, the risk outweighed being able to get off. Especially when Bonds were only broken through death or scientific procedures akin to getting divorced on a molecular level._

_His mom would have known a long time ago that Robert had died when the Queen’s Gambit went down. Would have noticed when she woke up without his familiar scent clinging inside her nostrils without him actually having to be there in order for it to do so._

_Oliver hopes she isn’t dead, died of heartbreak or at the lack of an Alpha in her life. She still had Thea to look after._

_Broken Bonds meant broken people, which is why when one person in a Bonded couple died, the other usually followed. Bonding might have come down to a science, some crap in Biology classes he never listened to, like both parties had to release natural endorphins around one another for science to think it was legit. But science also came down to chemistry, which meant sex, which often meant one-night stands and alcohol._

_Although Oliver had been sober for over a year now, there was no way he was going to risk putting himself in the same situation as his mother. Knocking himself off just because his Alpha died was not going to happen; he still wanted to get off this horrible island after all._

_He hadn’t even really thought about settling down before the whole island. Yeah, he could have moved in with Laurel but there was zero chance of a Bond there. Even his father frowned at the idea, though didn’t want anyone else knowing he was an Omega either._

_His father had just wanted to court him off for some obscene amount of money when he was of a respectable age._

_Which wouldn’t be happening now as Robert was dead, and Slade instantly shrinks backwards after Oliver tries to push him away nicely. For both their sakes._

_Slade stumbles to his feet, upwards and away from him, covering both his mouth and nose with a hand. He side-steps over the mess that is Ivo before coming to a halt between the room’s door frame, leaning against it. The Alpha takes a heavy gasp, apparently breathing through his mouth and Oliver knows that Slade knows. Probably has to resist the temptation to come back over to him._

_This_ _is what he’s always been afraid of._

_Okay, okay,_ _he didn’t need to panic yet. His whole body might have been sore and the chances of him being able to run away seemingly impossible but Slade seemed okay. For the moment._

_If the boat had been mostly cleared, he could have looked at getting out of here, back into the sanctuary of the forest. Though even then he’d want Slade or Sara at his side in case anything went down and he was unable to defend himself. So maybe he’d better stay here… he hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention yet with his heat pheromones so he didn’t think he was going to._

_Edging away from the pole he was once bound to, Oliver slinks inconspicuously over to where Shado’s quiver and long bow are. He might have trusted Slade, but he didn’t trust Alphas around him in heat. So it was a double-edged sword and although his arrows would likely be useless against Slade, with the Mirakuru in his system, it was still a comforting gesture to have them nearby._

_“Ivo didn’t…?” Slade goes to ask, sliding down the wall so he’s eye height with Oliver._

_Slade seems to realize last minute exactly what he’s asking when Oliver furrows his brows at him, his sentence trailing off._

_“I’m fine,” Oliver huffs, not liking where this conversation was going._

_Keeping his hands in his lap, making sure they’re not too close to his archery equipment so he looks suspicious. Still on the defensive, but ready to become hostile if necessary. Even if it would do him no good._

_Slade doesn’t take his answer well though as his eyes flash dark and he lunges forward, stopping just in front of him. The Alpha catches himself on his hands and knees, and Oliver isn’t sure what he’s said to displease the other._

_Maybe Slade was just out playing the Alpha protecting what was his. It was at the core of his most basic instinct after all._

_“Did he—”_

_Obviously Slade didn’t think it was merely coincidental Ivo would keep have abducted him so close to his heat for nothing. Which neither did he, but the truth or that, he would have still ended up dead. This is the less embarrassing situation of the two to be saved in though._

_“No, he didn’t! I’m fine okay,” Oliver assures angrily, their faces so close their noses are almost touching._

_“Besides he’s dead now, you already made sure of that,” Oliver finishes, spitting in pain and annoyance._

_Slade had already killed the Beta; he didn’t get a second opportunity to do so._

_At this close a distance, Oliver could see the tense play of muscle underneath the Alpha’s vest. How his face and shoulders relaxed the moment Oliver gave him the honest look saying Ivo hadn’t done anything to him._

_Well, the Beta might have been out to kill him, but just about everyone on the island was hostile, given the right circumstances._

_“I couldn’t protect Shado,” Slade’s voice comes out harshly, huskier than usual, like he’s been mourning—why hadn’t Oliver noticed that before?—, “but I can protect you.”_

_At that moment Oliver is sure his face flushes, unsure how to really respond to the Alpha’s words._

_Slade Wilson was acting awfully complicated for Slade Wilson._

_It was sappy by Slade’s standards, but given the situation it felt like Slade was making him out to be more than he was worth. Which was complimentary and painful all at the same time._

_Slade doesn’t attempt to back off him though when Oliver can’t think of anything intelligent to say, instead just crashes his mouth down onto his own._

_It’s rough, rougher than any girl Oliver’s ever kissed before. Even more so than the guys, which had happened too many times for him to count now when he’d gotten off-his-tree drunk or just gotten recreational._

_They’re sweaty, disgusting and now both covered in the blood of the enemy, and yet he lets the Alpha kiss him as naturally as he would let anyone else._

_It’s unexpected though surprisingly not unwelcome, which means Oliver is returning the favour quicker than expected by nipping the man’s lower lip beneath his teeth._

_Slade’s lips are chapped, wet, utterly unfamiliar but sensual all the same. It must have been an Alpha thing as Oliver was feeling aroused and intimidated all at once, even as he quickly finds himself with his back against the floor._

_He’s gripped firmly, though the palms on his forearms are only just enough to break through the intensity of his heat and give him some semblance of pleasure. It could have been painful, but then so was having unsated heats._

_This was a bad idea, and he’s not sure if Slade is thinking straight because it feels like this should be insulting to Shado’s memory. Granted he was the Omega here and any Alpha should be his to choose from by default.  No, no—what is he thinking?_

_Breaking away from the smothering kiss of the Alpha, Oliver finds his hands are around Slade’s neck. Slade looks concerned that he’s stopped, eyes still half-lidded with desire, or even a little surprised with himself that he’d been the one to initiate intimacy, losing himself momentarily. Oliver coughs awkwardly, not sure what to do with his appendages since Slade wasn’t moving from being slightly on top of him, so he just left everything where it was._

_His skin was fiery and rational thought seemed to be leaving him, but he wasn’t too far gone yet._

_“Where’s Sara?” Oliver asks, needing to know and also giving his mind a buoy to keep afloat from sinking into his sea of heat-induced lust with._

_Shifting slightly above him, Slade seems to make sure he’s not putting too much pressure on the Omega before responding._

_“Around.”_

_Then Slade just inhales deeply again letting Oliver’s heat pheromones wash over him. It’s enough to make even a well-restrained Alpha feel a pang of need.  The Omega having returned his show of affection seemed to indicate a ‘go’ to him. Oliver still looking confused at Slade’s response, the Alpha proceeds to make short work of the other’s clothing._

_The Omega had been in heat for long enough, so no need to let him suffer any longer._

_“What are you doing!” Oliver yells, though not loudly enough to draw unwanted attention, when Slade starts unzipping his jacket._

_Where Sara’s current whereabouts were had been vague and the Alpha didn’t seem intent on sharing anymore of that information with him before just deciding screw it, let’s just have sex anyway. He’s had people walk in on him during intimacy before, all of which were awkward experiences._

_If Sara was still hanging around, then he still needed to have some standards._

_That_ _was not a conversation he needed to have with Sara. Just like that silent ‘conversation’ he was sure he and Slade had when they had exchanged with one another as they shot glares around Shado._

_Right now, Slade just stiffens, currently running his hands over the contours of his abdomen._

_“What’s it look like I’m doing?”_

Seriously?

_There is a body lying not even five feet from them and Slade Wilson wants to have sex. Granted, Oliver doesn’t say that._

_“Uh-uh, I’m not going to do it here, especially not on the floor!”_

_“Are you for real, kid? We have been on this island for months now and you’re expecting a homemade bed to crawl into for intimacy? You’re just…” Slade just gawks at Oliver like he’s an idiot._

_Having the Alpha begin to undress him was uncomfortable enough yet now he was practically breathing down his neck. Although his eager cock was starting to strain the waistband of his pants, he couldn’t let this happen! It would do no good for either of them; Bonds were far too strong and fickle things to be trifled with. He did not need one with Slade Wilson._

_“I’d rather you didn’t,” Oliver half-whines, managing to stutter out as he grips the Alpha’s wrists away from him._

_Every part of his lower body protested the former idea though, more lubricant dripping from him and cock just quivering to the side of Slade’s leg. Although the idea of being forever protected and looked after by an Alpha on this hell of an island sounded appealing, that would likely be accompanied by his own need to submit and play bitch to said Alpha._

_Not going to happen._

_However, Slade easily sees through his white lie, his body arching up into the Alpha’s touch as Slade frees his hands from Oliver’s own._

_“Bullshit, don’t lie to me. I can see you’re practically begging for it.”_

_Oliver knows he’s doing exactly that and it’s almost futile for him to try and resist it. Hormones he’s tried so hard to resist in the past but also didn’t have an Alpha ready to knot him in that moment, tempting him here. Slade just vibrates over him, hands slipping between his waistband and giving it a firm tug downwards._

_Everything below his pants is wet; cock now beginning to drip fluid which only added to how much of a mess Oliver imagines he must have looked. How completely pathetic and weak._

_Slade doesn’t seem to see it that way though, grinning madly from ear to ear as he nuzzles into the Omega’s neck, taking a deep whiff of his pheromones. “I would never hurt you,” Slade whispers lowly, and Oliver doesn’t know if he can believe him._

_From what he’s heard about majority of Alphas, they were fiercely protective of Unbonded Omegas that they could take off the dating scene. Most Alphas hadn’t thoroughly beaten the crap out of Oliver in their idea of ‘training’ however. Nor were they certified experts in how to kill people._

_To top it all off, he can’t really know if this is just the Mirakuru warping Slade’s mind. Which was probably already struggling enough from his Omegan pheromones._

_He trusts Slade, has trusted him before with his life, but…_

_“You don’t know that…” Oliver croaks, hoping not to offend the Alpha._

_So far Slade’s control around him before and after his heats had been admirable, yet he doesn’t know if the Alpha really wants this. Like Oliver could do it—have carefree sex—but that was also thinking that he and the person involved were drunk or just otherwise completely out of it. Which he wasn’t yet past that point, but he doesn’t know about Slade._

_“’Lemme take care of you,” the Alpha only responds, assuringly._

_Usually this would sound sincere but it’s so un-Slade-like Oliver doesn’t know what to think. Length still straining against his boxers, there only seems to be one thing he can say._

_“Okay…”_

_Slade takes the initiative immediately, hurriedly flipping a half-undressed Oliver over onto his stomach. Gasping, the Omega finds the breath knocked out of him, chest hitting the concrete flooring as the Alpha starts yanking down his pants. Obviously Slade was taking the fast approach, which he could agree with needing more than simple touches here and there. Rough, this rough, he couldn’t do though._

_It takes Oliver a moment to realise he’s been seeing stars, head swaying with nausea as he registers the Alpha’s gloved palms running over his hips. Mostly unclothed hips, granted he still feels the only pair of boxers he’s had on the island, the one’s he was shipwrecked in, still around his waist. Head tilting upwards, Oliver allows Slade to trace over the litheness of his torso with one hand, sending shivers down his spine despite the Alpha’s moment of early roughness._

_Maybe Slade was just being overly eager but it still takes the Omega a moment or two to catch his breath after being flipped over so abruptly._

_It doesn’t look like he’ll be getting much more up either though, Slade now draping himself overtop him like a blanket. Warm, the Alpha was so warm, Oliver noticing how cold his lower body is, damp from natural preparation. Pushing aside the very real possibility that Slade could hurt him, the Omega edges back up into Slade’s own body, feeling the tightness and constrained energy there beneath his muscles. Even through layers of clothing._

_At this point, Oliver is just sure he’s meant to play the submissive. Not that he has any experience doing so before but his dynamic had always pressured him to do so during a heat cycle._

_He could do that._

_As if Slade had read his thoughts, the Alpha weaves down to the worn elastic of his jocks, giving the waistband there a pull and a flick. Twisting his arms out from underneath supporting his body is difficult, especially with Slade practically snaking over his entire body and him not wanting to let himself fall over. Instead Oliver just arches his lower body up into the man’s pelvis._

_Grinding back into the Omega at his gesture, Slade hastily yanks down the last of Oliver’s jocks, in spite of the awkward positioning of it all. Not wanting to ease off Oliver for even a second._

_Oliver is quick to gasp at the cool texture of Slade’s gloved hands, the man growling as he traced over his flesh. It was sensual, burning, and the Omega quickly finds himself jolted out of that mind-frame._

_“Slade!” he whines, clasping his hands over the Alpha’s own, kneading somewhat harshly into his upper thigh flesh._

_Slade doesn’t seem to have noticed yet how brutally fierce he was being, and although compliant for a moment to see how things went, Oliver could not handle that anymore.  Not when Slade didn’t show much notion of lightening up how firm his grasps were over his already tender skin._

_That’s when the adrenaline pumping though his body at the first sign of intimacy quickly goes from fuelling the fire to like a bucket of cold water to his system. No longer does Oliver want this, nor seek the friction from the Alpha’s body as at once searing pain erupts through his legs. Whether it was intentional or not, his fault or Slade’s, the Alpha was too strong for his own good._

_“Slade… you’re hurting me,” he half-screams, having his upper body pushed downwards as Slade is no doubt going to attempt to knot._

_Can’t fight, must flight, his mind screams, the Alpha seeming oblivious to his struggling, both internal and immediately becoming external._

_He is worried, he is scared,_ shit, shit, shit.

_Do… what does he do?!_

_He could seriously get hurt if Slade lost himself much more, hands like vice grips around the Omega’s smaller, frailer body. No doubt there were already bruises starting to form over his hips, waist and ass._

_Scrambling out from underneath Slade quickly, what happens next for Oliver is very fast._

_It’s a decision made forcefully quick on adrenaline, fear. Scuffling forward on his hands and knees, Oliver makes to grab for his only real defence—or offense—in this case, the bow and quiver not even three feet away from him. Even as Slade grabs him by the back of the jacket, yanking him backwards, likely not seeing what the problem is, or that there ever was one._

_Fingertips just over the edge of the quiver, Oliver just misses grabbing it—the bow farther back for his other hand to reach—dragging his empty hand over the floor as the Alpha has him dropped to it like earlier. Only this time it was a lot less enjoyable and that concept now feeling completely foreign to the Omega._

This is not Slade…

_Wrenched aback, Oliver does manage to grab one thing only ever slightly in reach: an arrow by the back of its feathering poking out of the quiver._

_It was not much but it gravely needed to be._

_The thought fleeting crosses Oliver’s mind that he doesn’t want to hurt Slade, only inflict enough damage for him to back off so the Omega can get the hell out of his presence. But the thought is only a small star in a much larger constellation, something that he’d easily miss in the heat of the situation. With the stone head of the arrow facing upwards in his fist, Oliver jabs it backwards and up with the intention of catching Slade in the side—hopefully enough to throw him off him._

_Only the arrow doesn’t stab into the Alpha’s side, or anywhere near it, the Omega knowing this instantly without even being able to fully turn around. The way Slade immediately tightens and then his whole body went incredibly lax, virtually collapsing over him—and bringing him to the ground as well—gives Oliver the impression that he’s seriously hurt him. However illogical it might seem when Slade had the Mirakuru in his system._

_A sense of dread fills him, though the Omega still scrambles out from underneath the Alpha when it seems safe for him to. Not looking back, Oliver fumbles up his pants quickly reclothes himself to give himself a better feeling of protection. Although it realistically wasn’t going to do anything, being fully-clothed again gives the indication he no longer wants sex. At least not Slade’s idea of—unintentionally rough—sex._

_Creating some distance between the two of them by hauling his aching body into a corner, Oliver finally wheels around to check on the Alpha’s whereabouts._

_The sight of it puts him more off then he previously was._

_The arrow he’d intended to stab somewhere non-fatal, like a hand or a bicep, is crooked coming out of Slade’s right eye._

_A lump begins to form in his throat and Oliver feels himself choke, dropping back down next to Slade again. His positioning on the flooring is awkward, stiff—obviously set that way when the Omega scrambled out from underneath him and threw him off as best possible._

_Even from a single glance Oliver can tell Slade’s… dead. Pierced through the eye, likely cracking the skull, and he’s not even sure if that alone can kill you—or if he’s gotten the Alpha in the brain during his frenzied attack._

_What has he done?_

_Oliver’s feels his voice crack as he goes to say something, apologize—just anything!—as he’s reaching his hands out to stem the flow of dark blood pouring from the Alpha’s eye. He almost has to turn away from him, resisting the urge to pull the weapon out of Slade’s still open yet lifeless cornea. Maybe it could heal? He could hope, or at least that seemed the only thing he could do right now, quickly saturating his palms with the Alpha’s blood._

_“I’m so sorry…” he croaks, feeling the harshness of Slade’s hair and the set of his jaw with every stroke of the Alpha’s face while Oliver tries to bring him back._

_But that was beyond him, to undone what he’s unwittingly done._

_Although his ribs and hips hurt from painful caresses, it was nothing compared to the cringe in his chest of his heart feeling like it was falling apart all over again. Just like he’d been the one to kill Shado, he’d ended up killing Slade. Possibly more so Slade than Shado, even so shortly after the Omega had been sure the Alpha was done for when the serum seemed to fail._

_So soon after getting Slade back again, he’d lost him, and this time it was all his fault._

_The rest of that memory always seems to blur into a haze for Oliver, balling his eyes out and whispering useless apologizes that meant nothing once whom it was intended for was dead. It’s going to be a while, possibly hours before he’s broken out of his stupor of trying to somehow revive the Alpha._

_Eventually Sara will stumble into the bunker—haggard and with blood matting every inch of her—, very likely catching his heat pheromones and the distress signals he was involuntarily throwing off in it._

_These are the parts of his dreams—or rather nightmares—that always seemed to be left out. Conscious of it, Oliver knows his mind won’t be letting him out early of this hell—intent on making him see the rest of it through._

_A moment that would possibly resemble a semblance of acceptance passes. Acceptance, or at least not shunning, of his dynamic, or it would be if Oliver wasn’t screaming at Sara trying to drag his weakened self away from Slade._

_“We need to get out of here,” she’d protest, quickly brushing aside the issue of his dynamic—how he’d lied to cover it up—after he breaks down, telling her what he’s done._

_Skimping on the details and leaving out most of the stuff about Ivo, only that without Slade having showed up in the nick of time, he’d probably be dead right now. That the Alpha had been protecting him and just look at how he had repaid him!_

_She’s managing to be so strong, practically dragging him off the floor and out the door even when Oliver can feel her chest shudder with her own small cries. There’s not a lot of fight left in him, breaking out of Sara’s grip is nigh-impossible and he barley tries, just using the last energy he has to barely stay conscious as he screams himself hoarse._

_He doesn’t know when he started crying; only that he doesn’t stop until well after the Beta has done her best to navigate his shrivelling mess out of the boat and back into the sanctuary of the forest._

_That path is littering with gory corpses, obvious tell-tale things that Slade, and to a lesser extent Sara, had a field trip trying to reach him. Oliver’s barely conscious, falling asleep on himself, when they appear outside the boat and Sara is quick to keep him from collapsing, further hauling them into the safety of the shrub. Likely wary of any unwanted visitors that might stumble upon them with Oliver in heat._

_The sun’s riding low in the sky when Sara seems to deem she’s chaperoned Oliver to safety enough, when he’s finally allowed to drop to the grass, still shuddering with dried tears coating his face. His mind overly plagues itself with thoughts of how much he hates and despises his very own existence right now, but how Sara is so understanding, not seeming to get angry at him over it—practically killing Shado and Slade within the last seventy-two hours—is beyond Oliver._

_There were still petty city kids and now they were expecting to survive on their own, seeing as he’d sentenced all the Alphas in their life to death._

_Doubling over, Oliver is instantly emptying his stomach into the bushes, almost surprised he hadn’t earlier. Despite really just wanting to be alone right now, Sara stays by his side. Placing a hand over the small of his back even though he immediately flinches away at her touch._

_Still just spitting and coughing, he tries weakly to push her aside, palm now rubbing small circles into him._

_“Stop it,” she tells him off softly as Oliver goes to hiss at her, currently wiping his sleeve across his mouth._

_He’s cried all he can possibly can for the moment and there’s nothing but a feeling of existential emptiness inside him. Exhaustion fills him to the brim and he can’t understand why Sara is still wasting her time on him. Yeah, safety in numbers and all but he was just such dead weight at this point he doesn’t know why the Beta bothers._

_“Why are you helping me?” he croaks, voice low from all his screaming._

_“Laurel goes through the same thing, though every month. It’s kind of hard to watch when you can’t exactly do anything, so I’ve learnt to do the best I can—just bring her chocolates, pour her warm baths, that sort of thing,” she responds, though not specifically answering his question._

_“I can see why you and her never took if further now,” Sara follows up, as if to try and bleed some lightness back into the conversation._

_It doesn’t, though Oliver silently appreciates her trying to look after him, though still not sure how she can be so calm._

_“Thanks…”_

_“Don’t mention it.”_

_Sara’s going to continue nursing him through his heat as best she can; spending multiple hours at his side without going anywhere, even though he’s sure she’s got to be starving., That is going to go on until sunrise, when finally Oliver’s heat blows over and Sara’s tended to his physical ailments about as much as possible._

_The heaviness in his heart didn’t pass however, no matter how much time did. Like a hole in his chest that could never quite be filled, only ever constantly being dug away at as he just_ keeps _on losing people. He has lost Shado, he has lost Slade, and then he soon enough after that day seemingly so long ago, he will lose Sara._

_Even if Slade is alive and returned, Oliver can’t be sure how much of the person he had once known is left._

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Oliver is pulled out of his—mostly—nightmare when the beginnings of sunlight begin to show behind his closed eyelids. The dream was so vivid and real, almost startling that he could remember the scene so thoroughly even though it was now years ago behind him. So right it had been… so wrong it had gone.

Still half asleep, Oliver rolls over, intent on going back to sleep as his alarm hasn’t gone off yet, when his arm brushes across something. Palming at it again, he knows it’s not the sheets as it’s a lot harder than them and when he grabs at it, it doesn’t move. Peeking an eye open, the Omega darts backwards and practically allows himself to fall out of the bed, remembering where he is.

_Slade…_

He’d temporarily forgotten where he was as nothing seemed out of the norm until he noticed the Alpha lying across from him. Thankfully still asleep and not looking like Oliver had awoken him. The last thing he needed as he was still expected to be—judging from the sun flittering through the closed blinds of the room—at work in less than two-three hours. It was Friday right,  _right?_

He really has no idea how much time has passed but yesterday was Thursday… never mind, he could deal with Slade later. Or Slade could be the one dealing with him when they both find out whether step two of Oliver’s plan had worked or not.

Stumbling back into his clothes—his Hood costume, as it was the only thing he had on him and he was not making the trip back naked, or planning to go through the Alpha’s things—regardless, he still needed to be out of here.

Felicity and Dig were no doubt worried sick over him, having neither his phone nor Bluetooth on him so they could make contact. They hadn’t come yet so Oliver had to think they thought him somewhat okay, or it was too possible that the GPS tracker in his boot wasn’t working the way it should. Maybe Slade’s building was off the map, or at least built from materials that could scramble or nullify any real tracking within it?

Whatever, it didn’t matter; he wouldn’t be staying here for much longer. Oliver would already have Felicity and Dig to answer to, come up with a half-believable lie to, to even want to think about adding Isabel Rochev to that list. Who would certainly chew him out and make his day hell if he didn’t show up on time.

At least his heat isn’t still smothering him so he would still be showing up at all.

Being expected to run a business and keep his dynamic a secret with corporate meetings and people obviously trying to snuff his company out from underneath him was not going to be in the least bit easy. His last two heats had happened when he was on Lian Yu mourning, so he wasn’t yet sure how to juggle everything, other than just walking out on people, at what he thought was convenient times for him, like he usually did.

Which he was going to do again now, Oliver quietly moving about the bedroom so as not to wake Slade. Hopefully no one else has shown up in the building—not that the Omega planned to look for a proper entryway out of here, instead would just hopefully grapple out of a window with his bow—otherwise his hand might be forced to hurt people he usually would otherwise not.

Who was he kidding? Anyone else that showed up here was probably in with Slade to ruin his life, or at least the Vigilante’s life. Neither meant good things for him so staying here in uncharted territory for much longer was not going to happen.

Making for the door, Oliver double-checks himself to make sure everything is in order and he looks no different than the Arrow usually does. Not in the least bit Oliver Queen. Before he manages to get out the door he gets the feeling that he’s missing something and has the urge to go back and look for it. Nothing’s missing from his attire though, quiver and bow all there.

Oliver is quick to realise what it likely is, walking back through the room and gathering it up from the floor before he makes it out the door once again.

xxxxxxxx

Oliver arrives back to Verdant with time to spare, letting himself in through the back door and sighing when he notices Dig and Felicity waiting there for him. He doesn’t see the young Beta which relives him slightly.

“What are you guys doing here?” Oliver asks, scratching the back of his head as he takes apart his gear and goes about setting it all back up in its proper places.

“Seriously Oliver?” Dig half-groans.

“Waiting for you to get your ass back here obviously,” Felicity pipes in, wheeling around from the computer setup.

She and Dig don’t seem intent on letting him have the easy way out, both looking like they’re waiting for an answer as Oliver just remains silent. He really hadn’t thought up a decent excuse and the truth was confusing, even for him, not something he felt comfortable letting them know. Although if Slade was going to be a threat they deserved to know so, albeit he hasn’t quite worked that one out himself either.

He wasn’t going to mention Slade, not yet at least. The rest of the truth could be stretched. Felicity doesn’t give him much more time to think up a somewhat warped version of the truth before she’s frowning at him again.

“You go dark for over six hours and you’re not even going to say anything? Maybe at least apologize because we were both worried sick about you?”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Oliver hopes he sounds sincere, “I didn’t realise the building I ended up in must have cut off the GPS signal.”

That’s likely not the apology Dig and Felicity were hoping for, yet right now Oliver is throwing off his jacket to change back into regular clothing so he can go home. Now was not the time to give them a tediously long explanation.

“I take it things didn’t go well with you and Cyrus Gold?” Dig asks more calmly than Felicity, though Oliver knows they’ve both just been worried about him and he should be appreciating their sincerity.

“Nope, not at all,” Oliver offers.

Dig gives him a discerning look as he quickly chucks on another shirt, knowing the bruising and marring across his chest would make it stupid for him to try and lie about.

“You get him?”

“Again, no. He kicked my ass.”

Diggle looks at him waiting for the  _and_  in that sentence, knowing that alone didn’t take Oliver so long to get back here. Dig and Felicity both have dark circles under their eyes and look visibly haggard, and he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for not returning sooner.

They deserved more of the truth…

“Okay, alright. Someone didn’t like Gold trying to kill me, specifically the leader of their cult whom just decided we were going to have a little chat instead—”

“What? You went and talked to someone who has obviously been trying to kill you, and then just suddenly changed their mind?” Felicity butts in, looking visibly confused.

“Not exactly willingly, I couldn’t do too much either to prevent myself from getting knocked out. We didn’t have a friendly chat either, and I kind of ended up breaking my bow, so I was in an even worse position.”

He’s trying very hard to stay as close to the truth as possible but regardless it still sounded far-fetched in his own mind. Without giving a history lesson of Slade and him on Lian Yu, it likely wouldn’t make sense to them even if he did reveal their relation to one another. So he just tries to drop Slade from the details altogether.

They all glanced over at his bow though, noticing the fractures and scraps it has accumulated.

“So were they after the Arrow or Oliver Queen?” Dig queries, steering Oliver’s mind back on track while he gives up on fully re-changing his clothes until he has some more privacy.

“Gold: the Arrow, I’m guessing he didn’t like me prying into what he was doing,” Oliver pauses before continuing, “Their leader… I think, didn’t want  _me_  dead.”

Oliver really hopes that was the right thing to say as he can’t take those words back now.

“Oliver, this guy knows who you are! And he just let you walk away? You just let him walk away?” Felicity too quickly notices the strangeness of what his words imply.

He has to be careful with his words, knowing how convoluted this scenario was beginning to sound and it was obvious he was hiding things.

“Again, it’s not like I had a choice. I didn’t want to be kidnapped and held hostage any more than you guys wanted to have to worry about me.”

 _Define hostage_ , Oliver mentally asks himself after saying that sentence aloud.

Dig and Felicity are pretty much trying to pry information out of him like teeth at this stage, Diggle quickly wisening up to that when Oliver remains apparently vague.

“So you and this guy know each other, Oliver?”

It’s not a question but an implication.

There was no other way around it, hopefully telling more of the truth and sooner would make it easier to inevitably explain later. He was no good at keeping secrets when they could be potentially harmful to others, or at least people who would be getting hurt at his own expense.

“I don’t know if we  _really_  know each other anymore,” Oliver sighs, feeling a twinge of pain over Slade.

The way he goes quiet for a moment must signal something to the both of them as Dig and Felicity both back of with their questions. Trusting Oliver to deem whether this situation was a hazardous one or not.

He can’t tell them that either though.

“Look, I’ll tell you guys more later, but right now I to go home, get dressed, and be at work in the next two hours. So do you two, for that matter,” he reaffirms, quickly trying to close the conversation to discussion.

Oliver follows up by giving them the queue to leave so he can finish changing without having them watch. Felicity doesn’t immediately make to move yet.

“Wait, were you alright? You were right on top of your heat last night, which is now today because it’s after midnight?”

 _Of course,_  he wouldn’t be able to go more than a single conversation without having his unsuspecting dynamic mentioned.

“I’m fine, Felicity,” he manages to grind out.

“Sure, okay. ‘Just you’re not even wearing your scent blocker right now, or even your Beta stuff for that matter.”

Oliver nearly cusses, breathing in sharply and noticing how notably  _Omegan_  he smelt without any form of concealment. Felicity thankfully takes her queue to leave with Diggle, darting off and not mentioning another word about it, leaving Oliver to his thoughts.

_What am I supposed to do?_

Men didn’t sort out their feelings; he never did, only ever hardened his shell a little bit more and tried to get over it. Even if he was supposed to be the ‘frail’ Omega. He doubts Slade was going to do the same either, that they were just supposed to try and talk things through together like _normal_  people.

Maybe he should have tried to gouge out Slade’s other eye in his sleep if Oliver was going to be so worried about it…

The whole situation makes him laugh at how Slade had gone from wanting to protect him to planning his demise. Not that Oliver doesn’t equally feel spite towards the Alpha for hurting him, letting him think that the other was dead, and the obvious killing of people in the city to get at him.

He still has an ace though, granted a weird ace up his sleeve it is. He hadn’t been sure until Slade had kissed him and only then was he aware that it was something he could exploit. If necessary to do so… A chink in the Alpha’s seemingly impenetrable armour.

“It was me, it was always me,” Oliver laughs, Slade had been jealous of him—not Shado.  Or possibly both, either way it added up to the same scenario now.

It was him.

xxxxxxxx

Exiting the basement, Diggle hums once Felicity appears outside alongside him as well.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, quickly catching on.

“Felicity, have you seen an Omega after their heat?”

She looks at him stupidly, almost offended.

“No, not really. Why are we talking about this? Last time I checked you weren’t an expert on Omegas, even less so Oliver.”

Felicity finds it weird what Dig’s implying, that they’re somewhat talking about Oliver. Or at least his dynamic, which admittedly she wasn’t expecting him to turn around and be an Omega either. Most of the Omegas she knew or had known just weren’t built like Oliver and usually were a lot more passive as well.

“Maybe not Oliver,” Diggle admits, “But, I’ve seen Omegas after their heats. That is not one. That’s an Omega after—”

“Nope, nope. I don’t want to hear it, John!” Felicity immediately cuts him off, knowing where this conversation was going.

It could very easily have been another Helena situation.


	6. Denial

No one at home questions the fact that Oliver’s been out all night. Nor does anyone give him any strange looks that knowingly scream ‘Omega’, having thoroughly doused himself with Beta spray before he left Verdant. Fingers-crossed Dig and Felicity hadn’t noticed the surprisingly Alpha scent on him early either that was Slade. There was no way he could pass that off as his own and it would no doubt add up to sex in anyone’s mind very quickly.

That didn’t exactly fit with the half-bullshit story he was trying to give his team partners either so the only thing he could do was try and hide it from them for the moment. If he intended to see Slade again—which he no doubt will—then he’ll be caught out eventually. Hopefully he can find a better way to explain it to them by then.

Without giving them a full recap of the events of Lian Yu.

Within the next half an hour, Oliver still manages a shower, redressing himself and making sure to conceal any tell-tale signs of what he’s been up to last night—both the bruises and Slade’s scent that just continues to cling to him like a second skin. The former also includes, dropping into his bottom drawer and thoroughly concealing, the clothes he’s ungraciously swiped of the Alpha’s from the bedside’s floor.

If what Oliver’s heard is true, Slade’s scent should suffice just as much as the real thing would. Such is the case when Oliver has to withstand the urge to take a deep whiff of the sullied fabric, draw in the man’s unique scent that he knows will send jitters right down through to his knees.

 _Nope_ , he doesn’t care about Slade Wilson at all. He was just an asshole.

With that conflict somewhat rested, Oliver also has to resist taking the suppressant he’s missed for— what is now—last night, knowing he had to break off them yesterday so they wouldn’t interfere with his heat cycle.

The matter of the pills screwing over his body even more so wasn’t something Oliver believed but apparently some of those side-effects, of not giving your body proper break from them, had been known to induce things like drawn out heats and lubrication spotting without the Omega having to be right on heat or at all turned on.

Neither of them sounded particularly appealing so Oliver still manages to pry himself away from the bottle.

Right before he’s rummaging through his bedside table again, lifting up the added wood panel there, to find them. Regardless of no one obviously having found them in the years that had past of him being gone—or having had the heart to disturb his room—Oliver still felt it necessary to keep them well-concealed.

Lest one of the house staff stumble upon them during their cleaning and not just chock it up to Oliver-Queen’s-emergency-contraception-for-the-Omegas-he-fucks.

Considering he’d went to the trouble of hiding them—which he didn’t usually do with the girlfriends, and once-upon-a-time just random girls, that he brought home—two and two would possibly add up. Even then the staff wouldn’t tell him about it, probably just pass it on to his mother as they were technically her staff, now that his father had passed, and everything that happened under this household was hers to know.

It doesn’t matter though, he needs those pills now.

Usually he would wait a few days before starting up on them again after a heat, for want of not screwing his biological clock over and allowing it a bit more time to recollect itself, but right now Oliver doesn’t have that time. Better to be safe than sorry than after all. He’d only just noticed it now, once the stress of being under Felicity and Dig’s prying eyes was lifted off him.

The reason his heat had died off so quickly, was because it was sated—not because it had just obligingly pissed off like he usually wanted it to. He’d willing let himself take it up the ass, granted that was part of a much larger scheme, and it wasn’t exactly bad, it was nice… but Jesus Christ he was ovulating. Obviously men did only have enough blood in their bodies to power one ‘head’.

Fumbling up the suppressants bottle, Oliver begins to tips the contents of it out onto his palm until he’s received a small, yellow pill. Downing it immediately and without water, just wanting the thing in his system ASAP, he has to hope it’s enough to work. Suppressants weren’t the best form of emergency contraception, hell hardly even considered one, but it would have to work for now as he wasn’t just about to go a buy a more reliable form.

Regardless of how discreet he thinks he can be, Oliver-Queen-gets-mystery-Omega-or-Beta-pregnant was not a headline he needed to be seeing anytime in the news soon. Who cares about what everyone else thought of him, but that stuff would not go down with Moira, least of all Dig and Felicity who he’s already skating on thin ice with.

He could always ask the Beta to buy them for him—well not _for_ him… but shit she knows he’s an Omega.

So that wasn’t an option either as that would be openly admitting to the fact that he’s hiding something, even more so than everyone already suspects, and that he has potentially fucked up big time.

No matter, knowing the state of his biology and the amount of testosterone he has—too much for the average Omega—it wouldn’t let anything, that his mind currently frets over, happen.

Now all he has to do is go about his regular routine, play Oliver Queen for a day—not the Vigilante—repeat that until he works out a plan and everything would be fine. Or not.

All these issues pester him, and this is all before Diggle arrives with the car and he’s out the door again just as quickly as he’d come in.

Sliding into the backseat, he makes sure to give Dig a stern look in the rear-view mirror that said _‘don’t say it’_ , not needing to have a repeat of their earlier conversation.

The drive thankfully ends up consisting mostly of them sitting in silence. Diggle knowing better than to press the subject and Oliver growing somewhat anxious about whether or not he’d done the right thing by Slade. Or rather what were the chances of the Alpha turning suddenly hostile, or just continuing doing… whatever he was doing with his weird cult (can he call it that?).

He knows he’s possibly in the safe seeing as Slade didn’t appreciate Gold trying to kill him and even made sure to swoop in himself to ‘look out for him’.

Which really just seemed to be Slade’s way of stating he had a claim on him and was _not_ going to tolerate other Alphas trying to impose on that. _Well, too late for that._ Not only was he no virginal Omega but if he has it his way and the odds are in his favour, he will have beaten Slade to the point.

Now it was just going to become a waiting game until they see what happens. Or again, the Alpha decides to start targeting his friends and striking at his weaker points, then everything was off the table.

All Oliver can do is just wait and see now as Dig pulls the small limousine to a halt outside Queen Consolidated. Felicity is already there, waiting at her desk while he goes about his day, which mostly seems to consist of giving hollow smiles to Miss Rochev as he’s often sure she can smell through his guise and tell he’s an Omega.

In between those moments, he’s fending off being under the equally unwanted and then so questioning gazes of Dig and Felicity.

After a couple questions and continued awkward silences, Oliver eventually cracks, really feeling that he needs his partners on his side right now rather than against him.

“So… how come we’ve never noticed before, y’know… when you’ve had your monthly cycle?”

This is the third or fourth time Felicity has pushed that button today—not including back at Verdant—and Oliver finally buckles. He’d told Sara the truth when she’d found out, so Dig and Felicity should be no different.

“’Cause I don’t.”

“What?” Felicity just gapes, leaning over a desk in his office where they’ve all gravitated to.

“I usually go every couple of months.”

“That can’t be healthy—”

“With or without suppressants,” Oliver makes sure to reprimand, knowing medication alone likely wouldn’t stunt his heats for that long.

Suppressants weren’t even particularly meant to be used like that, or at least the non-prescription ones that you could buy at just about every pharmacy from the shelves weren’t. Most Omegas just used them to regulate their heats, so that they’d break and go off them on weekends or just take ‘sick’ leave from work. Prologued usage would almost always lead to unexpected break-outs, but the thought was hard to resist of staying on them longer when Oliver knew he get away with later rather than sooner.

He had things to do after all—like protecting his city—none of which involved wanting to lie down and have a heat cycle willingly.

Of course, thanks to modern medicine, he could drop off having them in almost their entirety… Though anything stronger and more successful than just delaying a heat cycle needed to be done over the counter, or at a doctor’s clinic, and then it’d be obviously that whatever meds or procedures he wanted done were intended for himself.

In that case, he wouldn’t be able to remain anonymous any longer.

Whereas when necessary, Oliver would reluctantly buy the tablets himself, then he just ended up looked like a sleazy Beta who must obviously refuse to wear a condom for their Omega as suppressants were perfectly good birth control. _Not_. Enough Betas and Alphas—though they couldn’t get a condom to accommodate their knots regardless—had and would still make that as an excuse.

It was a much preferable alternative to be seen as a dickhead Beta who refuses to settle down than—and he knows he’ll get this when, and if, he ever does come clean—a slutty Omega who refuses to settle down.

Dig shifts awkwardly off to one side standing bodyguard, obviously not liking where this conversation was going and managing to stay professional enough to not ask too many questions either.

“What about last night then?”

Felicity doesn’t slow down with her questions.

“I don’t exactly get a lot of warning, and even then it’s not just like I’m going to drop everything for it.”

“Oliver, you could—”

Obviously Felicity doesn’t take how uncouthly he handles his heats, but Diggle cuts in before she can really say anything.

“Guys, are we really having this conversation _here_?”

Oliver gives the Alpha a look, noticing his concern for him about how they were so freely talking about this particularly touchy subject of his with only mere walls separating their conversation from others. It was most definitely something he didn’t needed anyone else knowing either, Oliver going quite for a moment as if someone had already surely heard them.

“Why hide it from us then?” Felicity still ends up asking, albeit lowering her voice.

Silence instantly falls over them as Oliver tries to think up a response, knowing it’s not something most people wouldn’t hide unless their lifestyle or job required them to. Even then to stick to such secrecy over the years seemed even odder—not even telling Thea or his friends—people that mattered about it.

It was hard to think about telling them, but most of all it was hard on himself as he gives his partners the only true response he can think of.

“It’s just something I’ve become accustomed to lying about.”

“Is this about what happened on the island?” Dig presses, though that wouldn’t explain why Moira and Thea didn’t know.

Almost every single person would be expected to have their dynamic presented for by their early twenties. Oliver would have been around the age when he went shipwrecked, though it wasn’t a completely foreign concept if he hadn’t. Omega’s dynamics were known to manifest the latest, usually at least into their teenage years as the first and most foremost sign would be the heats.

“ _No_ , Dig,” Oliver responds, with a hint of underlining irritation, “though it did force the nature of it a little more.”

Force of habit or force of nature, being an Omega in uncivilized Alpha-dominated territory made you prey. Which in turn made you dead, or worse. Several close calls for him had more so forced the memo that to survive, you must hide. Conceal; blend in, whatever it takes in order to not be seen as the hunted. But rather the hunter.

Although those same rules might not necessarily apply in a mostly humane society, he had lived by them long enough and knew that the city was still corrupt enough to not want to pass up old habits anytime soon. Even if he would too have to settle for some people knowing the truth, which wasn’t so bad given the individuals, just as long as nothing else was said on their parts.

Dig and Felicity were trustworthy…

As right now he’s feeling hard-pressed under their gazes to not say anything.

“Okay, so originally I never wanted a younger brother or sister—like I’m happy I have one now, and all—but I was an only child for nine years. You just get really used to it,” Oliver laughs going into his explanation, albeit it doesn’t reach his eyes.

His co-partners look at him for a second as if asking him where this is going or how it’s all relevant but don’t say anything. When Oliver speaks it’s as if he’s reluctant with his words.

“So I’m nine and mom and dad come to me asking ‘how would I like a little brother or sister?’ Of course I say no, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s happening anyway. Dad thinks I might be getting lonely, cooped up in the house all by myself sometimes, with only the staff around, though there’s also another reason why, which I’m not aware of at the time.”

Oliver pauses for a moment, as if contemplating his choice of words on an obviously touchy subject for him. He learns back behind his desk yet his whole body seems to stiffen slightly before he says anything more.

“I’m nearly sixteen when I find out I’m not a Beta, as I and everyone else not only presumes but is _certain_ so.”

It is a horrible memory for him and he quietens feeling the effect of remembering it awash over him. He’d known he wasn’t an Alpha since he was nine, possibly earlier. Although dynamics could be predetermined just like genders in utero, Alpha and Beta males as well as Omega and Beta females were almost impossible to tell apart as there were no obvious appearance differences between them.

Oliver is guessing his parents must have never asked for sex or dynamic on their first born otherwise his father might have possibly had an easier time getting over his disappointment of him.

At nine he’s not overly aggressive like most other young Alphas are thought to be, nor does he have the musky smell of one that almost always gives them away at that stage.

“Not that I immediately think I’m an Omega either—just that something is seriously wrong with me and I may as well be dying for all the pain I’m in,” Oliver goes on, though not pulling out of his current mindset, “Rather than just going to school the next day and then pissing off from it like I usually did, I just wag from home and lock myself up in my room.

Mom’s not too happy about it—not that we really speak—but I have a fair idea what’s going on now, and I don’t want her knowing. Or really anyone for that matter.”

It might have come as a shock to Moira that her son wasn’t a Beta but it screwed him over more so as he’d lived his entire life with that mindset. That he is not in the least bit Omegan, he’s a Beta through and through.

He’d laughed with Tommy after they’d both gotten laid for the first time, to Beta girls—or bitches, as they’d called them—from that prissy private school they were both made to go to. He had Omegas and Betas alike lined up at his feet, not always just to try and mooch off him either but genuinely because they wanted a bang.

There was no fucking way he was an Omega, not when everyone else was out for a piece of his cock rather than the other way around.

That’s why Oliver can bolt himself up his in room confident that whatever _this_ is will pass. That nobody else needs to know, he was just sick that’s all, and he’ll be better in the morning. Then he could just forget all about this weirdly like-what-heats-are-supposed-to-be-like-for-an-Omega-but-definitely-not-a-heat sickness. Unfortunately, his when his father gets home from the family company he has other ideas.

“After a while I’m fairly confident nobody _knows_ , things starting to look like they’re easing up into the afternoon and I haven’t had anyone ease try and pry me away from my room yet,” Oliver begins again, dropping out bits and pieces about his first heat as he’s sure Dig and Felicity can see from the overturned expression on his face—it was not good, none of them for him ever seemed to be.

“I end up just spraying the whole room in Beta-suited cologne, although that might not have been the best idea as the scent was then overly noticeable, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m definitely _not_ a Beta at this point. At least not biologically so.

I’m not sure how to tell anyone about it as I don’t really want to acknowledge it myself, but I don’t end up having to, or I suppose getting to. I haven’t come out of my room all day or let anyone in so when my father comes home, mom’s probably not in the wrong in telling him that I’ve stayed cooped inside all day.”

Oliver’s words die off and he grows silent again, dragging a pen back and forth across his desk in anxiousness. It’s a memory that’s painful to even think, about let alone talk about.

Diggle thankfully then finishes off his thought process for him.

“I take it your father didn’t approve of you turning out to be an Omega?” the Alpha presses softly, though probably anticipating the answer all the same.

“No, I barely think he liked the fact that I ‘was’ a Beta. He assured me when he found out the ‘truth’ about my dynamic that they were all lucky they still had my sister. The Alpha he made sure to go out of his way to get after he found out he’d failed the first time, hence the large age gap between Thea and I of practically ten years,” Oliver is hissing at first though eventually he’s just looking down at his desk again, rubbing away at it with a pen.

“Mhm, he was one of those as well,” Dig responds, Oliver doesn’t seem to have heard him though.

By one of those Diggle was meaning those who still actively shunned Betas as a dynamic. Those that thought Betas were still less of a dynamic and more of a flaw in society, possibly even a hindrance to it.

It doesn’t surprise him to learn that Oliver’s father was possibly among those people, the wealthy usually being old-fashioned in their courtships after all. By their standards, marriage was for people who couldn’t form Bonds of their own—where it’s also imagined that the marriage phase first begun from, the Betas—but Omegas also wouldn’t Bond to anything that wasn’t one-hundred percent Alpha.

Or rather they couldn’t be Bonded to, as it wasn’t until the Beta rights uproar that scientists proved that Alphas were actually the ones to innate the Bonding process. Betas couldn’t however, form Bonds. Though what was possibly one of the most intimidating things about them was that they could procreate and recreate without any outside influence from others. No need for Alphas or Omegas.

They were like Omegas that didn’t have heats and Alphas that didn’t have knots. Only their females would carry the young and only their males could do the siring.

In the eyes of everyone else centuries ago that was horrifying.

Even those that didn’t stand by the notion that Betas were the weakest link in society—just look at them now after all, the largest dynamic worldwide—would likely attest to them not having existed as long as Alphas or Omegas had.

At least from a scientific standpoint.

The stigma of Betas being some sort of blight on society, a ‘dynamic’ that could possibly rob the other two of all significant had come with the theory of how they’d came to be. Still considered a theory by many rather than fact as it has never been wholesomely agreed on.

The speculation was that in a time of mass hardship—likely thought to be the Black Death—where no one could even hope to recreate life as fast as they were all inevitably  being wiped out—Omegas and Alphas had to evolve to best ensure their survival. Which meant neither could be co-dependant on the other to help them produce offspring.

In their weakened states, they were thought to have started producing Betas—a diluted Alpha or Omega—, nowhere near as fertile as their parents but better suited to the harshness of their current environment.

They didn’t have the often crippling desire to form Bonds or be owned by one another. Ruts and heats were completely foreign to them so there was no worry of them suddenly becoming useless every once a month or so. With duller pheromones they were also easily stealthier and better at avoiding predators, efficient pheromone blockers still centuries away.

Their existence is thought to have prematurely saved the human race from spiralling past the point of no return, which you would think everyone else would be welcoming of.

Until Betas ended up becoming the dominant dynamic at forty-four percent of the population worldwide.

It was no longer the occasional one you saw; every second and third person had seemed to end up a Beta. Families that could once derive a lot of wealth from courting off their virile Omegas and Alphas were forever stunted—among other less important things—the population of them having dropped in favour of Betas.

Of course, with these circumstances well in place, Oliver’s father would have probably been disgusted when his expected Alpha son didn’t present that way and then several years later appeared as an Omega. Considering Omega males only made up about five percent of the modern world, it was somewhat of a shock to Diggle as well, Oliver continually defying the odds. 

Said Omega doesn’t seem to see it that way though as the next time he speaks he’s completely changed the conversation.

“What happened to Barry anyway?” Oliver asks, wanting to know whether or not he still had to worry about the Beta hanging around.

And also divert the conversation from him and the slightly awkward turn the conversation had taken. Everyone seems to notice that and Felicity snaps to with an answer for him that thankfully doesn’t involve turning the conversation back to him.

“He had to go back to Central City, don’t worry about it though. He won’t say anything,” Felicity affirms, seeming sure of it herself.

Even giving him a wide smile to try and assure Oliver to lighten up about it.

It works though Oliver’s mind is still wandering to places he’d rather it not and for the most part he wants to be alone to try and sift through those thoughts. Especially seeing as how most of them were about Slade and what the _hell_ he is supposed to do if anything goes wrong. He hadn’t anticipated this, not at all.

It was only after a couple hours of letting it all sink in—that Slade was alive, and he had no idea what the Alpha actually wanted, other than the good, old life ruining that the likes of Malcom Merlyn seemed to be very fond of—did he realise he had no idea what he was doing either. Slade was an unexpected blind spot for him that still hurt; the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to hurt the other.

Because wasn’t that what had ruined them in the first place? Unintentionally hurting one another?

Oliver doesn’t notice it but he’s quickly motioning for Felicity and Diggle to leave him, chuffing them out of his office with a single motion he’s become quite accustomed to giving. Watching them go, he calls out to remind Felicity about how his bow would need replacing, until then he wouldn’t really be getting anything done Arrow-wise.

She just continues walking on, not acknowledging his words, possibly annoyed with him. Diggle stops in the doorway though.

“Just for the record,” the Alpha starts, Oliver perking up at noticing how he is failing to leave, “I don’t see you as an Omega.”

“Thank you, at least someone sees it my way,” Oliver responds sarcastically.

xxxxxxxx

Considering Oliver’s smashed the limbs of his bow, prowling the streets at night had to come to an unfortunate hiatus. There was no point in doing so as he was currently waiting on a replacement bow—which Felicity had come through on—to be custom fitted with the works and shipped out somewhere inconspicuous where they could pick it up from.

Where it wouldn’t be connect with the Arrow.

Felicity had made the arrangements late Friday, so over the weekend nothing had happened, so they were still at an estimated three to five days shipping from Washington. Which apparently was the closest she could manage to Northern California, regardless the wait still irritated Oliver as the days seemed to crawl by.

His current bow could still shoot, but the angle and aim of the arrows would be thrown off, power of the bow string’s draw now putting a considerable strain on the damaged limbs.

The first bow he’d ever come into possession of—Yao Fei's bow, that Shado had taken up—was still an option, though it was more of a sacred thing now. It had seen its time of usage and bloodshed, now it seemed a heady thing to even consider sullying it more, years after he’d boxed it up and put it away.

Not to dishonour her memory, or either of the Alphas, but hopefully to preserve it. Keep it away from the lifestyle Oliver had quickly adapted after coming back from Lian Yu—the path of fulfilling his father’s dying wish.

That deed might have been fulfilled with preventing Malcom Merlyn from entirely levelling the Glades, but it wasn’t a chapter of his life he felt he’d truly put behind him. Or ever could. If it wasn’t for Tommy’s death he probably would still be going by his father’s list.

Oliver could never be sure if Shado would approve of this path of vigilantism he’d taken up, one of both vengeance and redemption. Even though she’d had no quarrels with avenging her father’s own murder—which Oliver had carried out after an assuring nod from her, the Alpha currently entrapped by Edward Fyers—their paths were not the same.

Bringing out her bow—the last thing he had of her, the Hood being her father’s—just trudged up painful memories, ones of how she’d been heart-broken when she’d known who he really was before the island. Of how he’d left his supposed girlfriend in Starling City before jumping on a yacht with said girlfriend’s sister.

Then Oliver had killed her, or at least been the one to sentence Shado to death. It was a decision made within split second thinking, though Sara had been the one he’d known for the longest, apparently cared for more. Should have been the one, if he had to choose, he brought home to her family, no doubt devastated by loss.

Even though again, she was just another person he couldn’t have. Wouldn’t even try to now—not that he ever seriously would have, not after doing her sister and seeing all the repercussions of that—smelling the faintest hint of an Alpha on Sara the last time they saw one another. . Sara was possibly together with someone, which was weird to think one of them, after being so emotionally destroyed by the events that happened on the island, could find some semblance of happiness.

Maybe she’d gone back to her Alpha now; hopefully not another psychopath from the League of Assassins—or so Sara had said they were called. Albeit he wasn’t fairing much better in the romance department himself.

Oliver had just let himself get knocked up by Slade Wilson, likely murder of innocent people and just generally another person to likely be added to the list of people that hated his guts, one way or another.

That was also the other reason for him staying surprisingly inside the last couple nights—other than not wanting to run around with his broken-ass bow and still be expected to adequately defend himself against people with guns.

Oliver wasn’t sure how Slade was taking their current situation.

Dig was still watching the streets for him, whereas he’d let Felicity go on Sunday to Central City. He wasn’t in the mood to try and stop her, the less people Oliver has on his case at the moment the better.

As well as her generally wanting to go and see Barry Allen, who had turned out to be among the casualties for particle accelerator’s explosion over there. The Beta was in a coma right now, so Felicity was one less person he had to keep his current… _situation_ from.

That unfortunately meant Diggle was working overtime—where he’s thrown himself into his CEO work to try and stop thinking about another certain Alpha—eyes not only on the city but also Thea’s irritating boyfriend in the Glades, where people seemed to have stopped dropping dead. No more pinpricks in people’s necks along with blood pouring out of their eyes, at least for now.

This causes Dig to look him up and down more so as the work days come round and Oliver can’t avoid him as easily as he is so intentionally doing so now. Obviously the Alpha was starting to wonder what exactly it is that he’s done to persuade their resident serum possessor to stop using it, or in turn just the by-product of killing people with it.

Slade, or whoever the Alpha had using the Mirakuru, obviously had no idea that Betas, or even the average Alpha really wasn’t equipped to take it. If Ivo’s words were to be believed.

It almost makes Oliver think he should send the other a mocking thank you card, based on how quickly Slade seemed to realize what the issue was—the killing people—and fix it. More appropriately he should attach the letter to an arrow and put it through one of Slade’s windows that way they’re clear that nothing’s changed between them.

As of yet.

Oliver knows he hasn’t warned Slade to back off though; he’s just ended up taking a far more intrinsic advantage of the Alpha. His damn feelings.

Those stupid feelings that had possibly made Slade come on to him the first time round on the island. It must have been his Alpha instinct kicking in as Oliver fails to understand how Slade could have liked him at that stage with—he’ll admit—what an annoying and sometimes quite useless kid he was.

Granted now that he’s aware of it he’s almost certain he knows how to put the Alpha back in his place.

It was possibly a very deceptive thing of him to try and do, though he wasn’t above that sort of manipulation when other people’s lives were at risk. Again, he’s really standing in the unknown here and only now that the next Saturday is rolling around, over a week since he’s seen Slade, is Oliver certain his plan has worked.

It hits him like a train wreck when he wakes up, signs of it small and insignificant enough before now that he couldn’t be sure. Now, stumbling into his ensuite bathroom, Oliver is certain the signs are what he _thinks_ they are and they were definitely no longer going to be ignorable.

Turning the shower head on full throttle, he quickly strips off and throws himself under the steaming water so that it’s half-scalding his skin.

Despite the water helping to blanket the pheromones, he can still detect Slade’s scent intertwined with his own. His own having a surprisingly heady sweetness to it as he has yet to snuff the notion of it out with Beta perfume.

It would just end up being a waste as he’s immediately grating a foamy sponge over his skin to try and purge Slade’s scent from him. Not for the want of still attempting to keep his dynamic a secret but for his own sake, being the Alpha felt like he was smothering him without even having to be near him.

A side effect of the hormone suppressants was meant to be that the individual’s sense of smell might dull. Normally Oliver is sure it has for him, which is probably part of the reason he can be so calm around unsuspecting Alphas like Isabel Rochev that he has to unavoidably be around every day, but right now it’s like the complete opposite.

He just cannot seem to get Slade’s scent off of him this morning, even after dumping a load of Beta-scented body wash on him.

 _Idiot_ , the still rational part of his mind protests amidst him half-scrubbing himself raw, _it’s not on you, it is you!_

The thought causes Oliver to still in his rampant motions, dropping the sponge and letting the torrent of water cascade down over his neck and shoulders as he lowers himself to the floor.

He knew from the likes of his mother and father that Bonded couples would try to replicate the scent of one another, naturally producing it along with their own, to signal their status and that they would not likely—albeit it was very rare—take to anyone else.

He laughs, albeit there’s no humour to it, careful to avoid getting a face full of water.

He’d done it; he’d actually managed to do it, Bonded Slade and tied him to him. Granted the factors weren’t all dependant on the Omega, rather both participants on whether or not a Bond could be formed, but he wouldn’t have let himself be literally screwed over unless he thought it would work.

Or at least could as Slade’s feelings had been somewhat unpredictable the last one or two times they’d seen each other.

In order for this to happen though, those emotions had to be genuine, deep down the two needed to care for or love one another. Oliver Queen has faked interest before, though maybe not enough to deceive science, so why not again?

Which in short means now he has the lion caged and just has to work out what to do with it. Slade’s own instincts, which if he knows by now will no doubt, compel him to do the opposite of what he’s been trying to do. Look after his Omega and please him, rather than the Alpha potentially trying to go out and murder everyone he holds dear.

There was another slight issue though, the in long, and in long Oliver would need to work out how’s he supposed to deal with this newly formed Bond, and of course still function like a normal Beta with nothing to hide from everyone else.

Oh, and then there’s the matter of how his body feels like it’s suddenly been kicked into overdrive, yearning for the Alpha it hasn’t seen in several days.

That should be the easier part to deal with yet, as he’s flicking off the shower’s taps and proceeding to dry himself, towel wrapped around his waist, before making sure his room door is locked.

It still was.

Oliver then proceeds to his dresser, pulling out the bottom most drawer, flicking out the many articles of clothing he has in there that aren’t in his wardrobe. He’s careless with his rummaging, pulling apart many neatly folded pieces by staff until he finds what he’s looking for.

Slade’s dress shirt, pants and even the jocks, still carrying his scent albeit less prominently.

They hadn’t been through the wash or ironed, crinkles started to appear in the crooks of the elbows and the buttoned up sleeves. It didn’t matter as they were going straight back in Oliver’s drawer once he was done with them, soothing his raging hormones with the Alpha’s scent, no matter how artificial it might have been  here.

Taking the clothes in his hands, Oliver attentively pulls them to about chest level, slightly wary even though he’s alone. Still, the Omega releases the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and inhales, nose buried in the air above Slade’s clothes.

It was a known practice for Bonded couples that had to be away from one another for extended periods of time. Rather than severing the ties they would collect objects of their partner that held the most of their scent, clothes in particular. It didn’t completely ease the pain of separation, yet Oliver had the feeling ‘borrowing’ the Alpha’s clothes for the moment would have been the right idea.

Resisting the urge to just completely shove his face into Slade’s shirt, Oliver feels his spine quiver with the man’s heady scent awash over him.

Then he’s quickly throwing the clothes back into the drawer, piling everything else on top of it unceremoniously, not quite sure where his mind is going. His body feels flush and jittery though, so obviously that didn’t seem to have worked.

Maybe he’s just not attracted to the Alpha’s scent so it would do him no good regardless?

Either way, he should probably go and see that asshole in person, make sure he’s got the message and that the people of the city were off limits. Especially his friends and family.

Felicity was also due to be back from Central City today, which meant his new bow would arrive as well.  The Beta having offered to detour to its inconspicuous shipping destination to pick it up, if it wasn’t there too much earlier than she was expected to return to Starling.

_What time does her train come in, again?_

It didn’t matter as Oliver found himself heading to Verdant anyway, having thoroughly avoided it the last couple days whilst playing the part of diligent CEO. Although he doesn’t call Diggle to come pick him up, still not sure where they stand with each other—outside of work where they’re both just keeping up appearances. Instead he just takes his bike, showing up at the club before it is scheduled to open and any of Thea’s bartenders are in.

Or Diggle for that matter in the basement, which is somewhat surprising when Oliver lets himself into it and finds that he is alone. Or not, as the air is off when the Omega tries to allow himself relax in the atmosphere of the basement that had almost become like a second home to him.

Usually the place was kept sterile smelling, to leave as minimal traces of anyone having been there as possible. Credit was due there to the scent blocker, Oliver having invested in it not only to conceal himself as the Hood, but also cover his tracks. Which sometimes meant emptying entire cans of the stuff underneath Verdant just to make sure he was thorough.

Right now it doesn’t feel like he has been though, catching the Alpha scent shortly after he’s walked in the door.

Oliver goes to wheel around immediately knowing the source, but he doesn’t get a chance to when said Alpha’s arms snake around his chest and silence the notion of sound that tries to escape him.

_Slade…_

 


	7. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to point this out, this fic will likely not go canon-compliant through the events of _The Promise _(2.15).__
> 
> A word of notice too, I want to try and shorten these chapters to get them out to you more often. Possibly starting this chapter… or not, depending on its length.

“We need to talk,” Slade says, having just ensnared Oliver within his grasp.

The Omega’s blood runs cold though jolting forwards fear doesn’t really get a chance to settle into Oliver as adrenaline's quickly pumping through him at the first notion of a threat. Even if he knows there really isn’t one. Arms around his chest, hands around his face—he hates being snuck up on, hates it with a passion.

Archers don’t have the jump gotten on them, they do the jumping, otherwise they were prey, just like they were on the ground or anywhere else that’s not a reasonable distance from their opponents.

He hadn’t even walked through the door less than a minute ago and already Slade’s pouncing on him from behind.

“Be quiet,” Slade growls at him over his shoulder, the Omega making muffled cries of annoyance.

Writhing in the Alpha’s grasp, Oliver only narrowly manages to catch his balance when Slade drags him backward slightly, losing his footing on the floor at the sudden motion. His feet trip so that he’s reeling on his ankles and the rest of him falls backwards, the added few inches he has over Slade obviously a nuisance when the Alpha loosens his grip on him, hands detaching from silencing him to move backwards and not let the Omega fall.

He really doesn’t want to but involuntarily Oliver lets Slade prevent him from falling over, head dropping into the crook of the Alpha’s neck. Immediately he’s feeling awkward when the Alpha isn’t shoving him away, arms still a steel clasp around his body.

They’d had sex, yes—the infamously quick heat-and-rut he was now aware of—granted he felt more conflicted around Slade now, fully clothed. Must have been the heat hormones loosening his inhabitations.

“Are we alone?” Slade asks, looking annoyed as Oliver can now see the expression on the man’s face whilst half-upside down and trying to right his footing.

“What do you think?” he retorts rather loudly, granted Felicity and Diggle could be anywhere.

He palms the Alpha in the chest roughly to try and break his grasp, though nowhere near enough to hurt him.

Slade seems to get the message quickly enough, releasing him and Oliver stumbles away from him, feeling his stomach tie itself in knots so close to the man. The Alpha’s scent has also finally reached his nose, slightly soothing him despite him not wanting it to and still having a face full of Beta spray trickling up to his face from underneath his clothes and neck.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Slade apprehends as Oliver doesn’t respond, “’Wasn’t sure you were going to come quietly, so I was prepared to take you by force if necessary.”

Oliver visibly stiffens, back turned to the Alpha, several meters away from one another. Take him by force? Was Slade implying… of course, not. He was probably just going to make to kidnap him again like the last time they’d encountered each other.

“Well, guess what I’m not going anywhere with you,” the Omega spits, not particularly wanting to go anywhere with Slade, at least not willingly.

Especially somewhere that wasn’t Verdant, where he was most equipped to defend himself, if it came down to that. Which it probably wouldn’t and even so he’d likely lose horribly.

“Alright, we’ll do it here then,” Slade says, and Oliver can practically hear the roll of eyes in his voice.

They were definitely not doing _anything_ here though, not in Verdant where Felicity was due to show up with his replacement bow anytime soon. That rational thought is quickly drowned out yet when an array of questions bombard Oliver. ~~~~

“’The fuck did you get in anyway?” Oliver demands, not having seen any signs that the Alpha had broken in, whilst turning around to look Slade up and down who’s looking surprisingly more casual then he ever remembers seeing him.

He’s not dressed in a suit or tactical gear like the Omega’s used to, instead just reminds him of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, dressed to downplay his somewhat hostile appearance and appear more civil. Even in jeans and a T-Shirt though, Oliver knows better than to start feeling comfortable around Slade as the Alpha just looks at him slightly bored-like.

“Forced the door, then re-locked it again from the inside,” Slade shrugs, as if it was nothing.

So he had broken in, well forced his entry albeit through the back door somewhat discreetly. Oliver really doesn’t care how, but why. And how long had Slade even been waiting for him to come by here?

“What were you even doing, just waiting for me to come by so you could attempt to abduct me again!”

Oliver’s still not too happy about that, especially when he can’t predict Slade’s emotions—who right now appears calm—without Oliver’s pheromones tipping the scales of reason for both of them.

“You’ve been avoiding the streets and down here, so I figured you’d have to show up here by the weekend. It was either that or I come knocking on your door. And besides most people would disagree that you can be abducted by your Alpha, which we need to talk about, you snake,” Slade flares back, cool demeanour disappearing as the Omega looked to turn equally hostile.

Not that either of them probably imagined this was going to be a civil conversation to begin with.

Oliver nearly laughs, though the urge to do so is quickly drowned out by how pissed he is.

So Slade had noticed the Bond, possibly later rather than sooner, seeing as he was only now getting a visit from the Alpha. Slade couldn’t also completely blame him in this situation, seeing as if he had never let on about _those_ emotions Oliver wouldn’t have thought it possible. Then Oliver might have been the one getting the nasty surprise, because at least with Tommy he knew a Bond wouldn’t take.

One whiff of another potential partner on an Alpha, or vice versa, where they were obviously being intimate, usually prevented the Bonding process from happening with anyone else. Or even the Omega or Beta not falling pregnant from another’s seed. Because although society wasn’t completely monogamous—Alphas would still give up their left nut or so for a chance with some Omegas—Bonding, or at least science, dictated otherwise.

From Slade’s words it sounded like he had also bugged Verdant or was at least keeping tabs on him somehow, both Oliver was unappreciative of. Whatever the case, it was quickly disregarded in the heat of their continuing argument.

“You think I’d just idly sit by and watch as you destroyed my city? You have no idea. I might not be able to kill you, didn’t seem to work the last time when I drove an arrow through your head, but you can be damn sure I’ll put a noose around your neck and make sure it stays there,” Oliver snaps, referring to the nigh-unbreakable quality of Bonds.

Granted using his charm and sexual prowess, was usually a thing of the past for him, it was still an effective way of getting what he wanted. Especially now that the stakes look like they’ve never been higher, the amount of people dead from the Mirakuru likely only the city’s second highest death counter recently from a singular threat. First being the earthquake incident nearly a year ago.

He’s almost surprised when Slade hasn’t smashed him then, having openly admitted to his somewhat manipulation, coerced Bonding, though you almost always ran the risk of it happening—Bonding—anyway. If the circumstances were met.

When Slade responds, Oliver has to wonder if the Alpha has a lot more control than he’s ever remembered or his instincts were placating him from trying to harm _his_ Omega. Both was good.

“I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to remain chaste for a month. Couldn’t keep your hands off Shado, now could you.”

That was a low blow even for Slade: Shado. Seeing as neither her nor her father had been breathing down his neck in their first encounters he might have ended up slightly more comfortable around her than said Alpha in front of him. Especially when she wasn’t smashing his face into the ground every other day, unlike Slade, which did not fit with Oliver’s definition of ‘learn how to defend yourself’.

Refusing to rise to Slade’s bait though, Oliver easily enough deflects his comment.

“Actually no, it’s closer to twenty-eight days, the average Omega’s heat cycle,” Oliver chides.

Slade just snorts at him, either not wanting to know or not caring about whether or not he’d actually been chaste.

“So what, you’re just going to stay on suppressants for the rest of your life? Hide from the world another secret like the coward you are!”

Of course Slade knew about the suppressants… probably could smell them in his sweat last week, and even though many years had passed, could tell how Oliver’s current scent greatly differentiated from the almost sickly sweet one he had on Lian Yu. Too great a change in a person’s scent to have happened by natural causes, like aging or Bonding.

As an Alpha, who knew what he really smelt like under all that false pretence, Slade no doubt might have be feeling cheated. Or at least confused when Oliver’s masked scent was sending different signals to what the Alpha knew to be true.

In this situation, Oliver is just continually rubbing it into Slade’s face that he’s got him right where he wants him.

“Oh no, I’ll come clean eventually. I’m going past my prime and if I’m lucky I’ll be able to go off suppressants by time I’m thirty-five,” Oliver admits, too hoping that once his body hits menopause.

It couldn’t be coming soon enough, the day he no longer has to worry about unwanted Bondings and Alphas trying to molest him every which way.  Which right now he didn’t have to worry about the former either, to a lesser extent, as he currently has a pissed-off, recently-Bonded Alpha in front of him that needs more worrying about.

“What are you thirty—”

“Twenty-eight,” Oliver corrects, not entirely sure why he felt the need to.

“Even worse,” Slade glowers, “prodigal son leaves no heir to his family”.

Of course… Slade knew about that too.

“Shut up,” Oliver snaps, using his height over the Alpha to try and make himself feel that little bit more confident, “you have no right to come into _my_ city and criticise _my_ lifestyle when you have idea what it’s like!”

Oliver can feel his control over the situation slipping as the Alpha easily gets under his skin, seeming to know all the ins-and-outs of his life. The Arrow, his dynamic, it was like none of his secrets were safe anymore if they weren’t safe from Slade.

“Maybe I don’t,” Slade starts, Oliver almost thankful when the Alpha doesn’t seem like he’s further prying, “but I know it isn’t the island where every Alpha was out to pound your arse.”

“Well, it would be if every Alpha here knew I wasn’t a Beta!” Oliver spits, watching Slade roll his eyes again.

“They probably wouldn’t know what to do with you, but I do.”

Removing his hands from his pockets, Slade goes to grab for the Omega’s wrist but Oliver quickly flails away from him, the Alpha not using the necessary force he’d need to subdue such an Omega.

“Fuck off!” Oliver cusses, moving out of the Alpha’s reach.

Not content to let Slade put his hands all over him within the same moment he feels like he’s getting a lecture. But the Alpha does it anyway, quietly moving up behind him, hands on his shoulders quicker than Oliver can blink.

“Maybe if we bring you into heat again we’ll see how willing you are.”

Oliver cringes, knowing what the Alpha said to be very true and feeling his breath caressing over his collarbone, sluicing over the same area where Slade had left his half-bites, half-kisses. Resisting his more natural urge to panic and again swat the Alpha away, the Omega squashes it down in favour of trying to get the situation back under his control.

“If I come into heat, you’ll also go into rut,” Oliver whispers.

In Bonded pairs, if the recipient went into heat—natural or otherwise, brought on by their partner—as well as them being interested, their partner would be hard pressed to not have sex with them.

Slade growls back at him, obviously knowing what Oliver was getting at. That the Alpha was unable to resist clamouring onto a willing Omega in front of him, as shown by the past week’s events.

“Don’t you dare, not think you aren’t a slave to your biology either!”

Oliver smirks at that, even if Slade doesn’t see it, pulling everything back under his oversight.

“I don’t. I’ve just gotten used to being _not_ what my dynamic would suggest.”

With that Oliver slipped out from under the Alpha’s hands, Slade not bothering to try and keep him there.

“You play with fire, you get burned, kid,” Slade huffs, not bothering to follow the Omega.

How very rich of him to say. Didn’t Oliver mention he hates the ‘kid’ thing as well? It was almost demoralising at this point. Right now he’s willing to chastise Slade as well though. Play the ‘submissive’ Omega if that’s what it took to get the Alpha off his back.

“You wouldn’t do anything to hurt your precious Omega? Or try to upset him, now would you?” Oliver coos, giving the Alpha a quirk of his eyebrows.

“Not if you don’t continue being a little shit I won’t.”

“What, decided you wouldn’t kill anyone either this week to see if I’d talk to you?” Oliver half-seethes, finding himself pressed up into a steel table as the Alpha has started walking him backwards, granted still keeping a steady distance apart from one another.

“That ain’t got nothing to do with me, kid. You have no idea how many people I am currently keeping in line,” Slade protests, “besides, up until a year or so ago, the Starling City Vigilante still left arrows in everyone’s chests.”

Oliver feels like Slade is lying to him through his teeth, yet the Alpha trying to imply like their methods were one in the same is even more irritating.

“Those were people poisoning this city, I had an oath,” which Slade doesn’t need to hear about, “whereas these are innocent people you’re killing for the sake of your own… whatever!”

No one was allowed to get hurt at Oliver’s expense, no one. Especially when Oliver’s not sure what’s he done to make Slade’s hatred burn that deep, to where other people needed to suffer for it, other than defend himself when he was about to have his spine snapped.

“Yeah, and look at who just saved your ass the other night from becoming an Alpha’s bitch,” Slade cusses as they’re right up in the face of each other.

So close that their breaths ghost over one another and the agitated play of tendons is visible underneath their skins. Their eyes meet—dark brown and blue—where Oliver can tell Slade’s annoyed, though not blatantly angry with him. Slade’s natural instincts were possibly dulling his aggression, just as Oliver would expect. Rather they would do the opposite, tell him to protect his Omega.

This close Oliver can also smell himself on Slade, the-definitely-not-a-Beta-smell of his own under the Alpha’s own musky aroma. There’s probably more of an accurate representation of his natural scent there than there currently is on himself.

It distracts him slightly, so it’s a moment before he responds while Slade just presses in front of him looking intimidating. Oliver’s not feeling threatened however.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting a thank you?” Oliver responds sarcastically, ‘Cause I think I was doing just damn fine and didn’t need you to come to my ‘rescue’ either.”

That might have been a lie but Oliver was never going to admit when he was too weak to defend himself.

“Yeah, you were doing just damn fine too after I stuck my dick in you.”

“Just returning the favour, seeing as you liked sticking your hands all over me so much last time!”

Granted neither of them were in a particularly good place at that time.

Slade’s practically on top of him now, Oliver feeling the impulse to back down and make himself smaller in the presence of _his_ obviously displeased Alpha. Both of Slade’s hands are on either side of him and he is scuffling backwards hard-pressed against the steel frame of the table just to create some semblance of distance between them.

Instinctively, Oliver’s reaching for his bow—anything to arm and defend himself with, or at least have the comfort of it nearby.

He’s completely empty-handed though after a couple seconds of fumbling around, the table obviously being a barren one and not accompanied by anything of usage to him. Thankfully Slade chooses that moment to halt in his painfully slow crawl towards him, looking at him somewhat baffled and equally annoyed, like Oliver’s struck a nerve with his words.

“Don’t lie to me, kid,” the Alpha growls, voice thick with his natural accent slipping more into it, “If you think I did anything that counted as jumping your bones before last week, and there was that last time—both of which you were incredibly _asking_ of—,you’re sorely mistaken. If I did, you certainly would have known about it.”

Was Slade fucking with him?

“Oh, I knew about it all right, still gave me plenty of bruises before but this time there wasn’t any scarring at least,” Oliver grits out, the words not entirely what he meant to say.

Yet, stuff it. The Alpha’s annoying him.

This time round Slade was a lot more gracious with him yet he’s still wearing a chain of bruises around his neck, which has been particularly difficult to hide, restricting his wardrobe options. It was like the world’s worst hickey, nothing short of a miracle in Oliver’s head, all things considered, when he’s probably had more than a hundred in his life. Still purple and flaring up slightly with pressure put on it after a week.

Slade had done him worse though—not including his idea of ‘training’ either—on the freighter, which hadn’t even really added up to proper intimacy in his books. He still had ended up a lot worse though than he had after this past Thursday’s night.

“What scar?” Slade half-demands, narrowing his gaze at Oliver.

 _Oh yeah,_ Slade didn’t know, and if he had noticed the scar he had probably just chocked it up to another one of the dozen scars Oliver had gotten on the island. He doesn’t _really_ want to talk about it—not about how’d he had stuck an arrow head through the Alpha’s eye, granted unintentionally—and seeing as Slade seemed to avoiding the subject too, the safest bet just seemed to be to try and brush it under the rug.

“Just one of many,” Oliver says, with an underling tone that said ‘end of discussion’.

Slade doesn’t seem to like his vagueness though as within seconds the Alpha’s hands are underneath his thighs, elevating him backwards onto the steel table. Oliver snaps at Slade as he’s dropped backwards albeit smoothly, grabbing at the Alpha’s wrists as Slade starts pulling up his jacket.

“What are you doing?” Oliver seethes, knowing how futile his clawing over Slade’s arms was all the same.

Slade easily enough wrestles the Omega’s hands away from his—who’s not bothering to try and kick or knee him given the awkward angling and that he’d probably just end up hurting himself. Slade then resumes hauling up Oliver’s shirt where majority of his scarring seems to consist, Oliver submitting quickly enough.

Allowing the Alpha to remove his shirt as best as possible without letting him up, knowing how useless his struggle was as what Slade wanted, he could always get by force. Even before the Mirakuru.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so snarky about it as then Slade wouldn’t have been half-stripping him down here if Oliver had just been complacent to shut up. But he’d always rather not unveil the physical reminders of how Slade had hurt him, just like how the Alpha wasn’t going to pull of his eyepatch and show Oliver the damage he’d done there. He hadn’t taken the Alpha’s whole eye out, from his vague stupor-like remembrance of the scenario, but he imagined Slade was blind in that eye regardless.

Oliver huffs, trying to remain annoyed at Slade but intrinsically twinges when the man runs his—surprisingly smooth—palms over his stomach, tracing up and over the muscle density there to one of the larger scars he has. Had Slade’s hands always been that smooth?

Slade meets his eyes for a moment, brows quirked, as if to say ‘ _which bloody scar?’_ or ‘ _what did you say I did?_ ’ and Oliver shifts slightly, unsure how to respond to his unspoken questions.

“Leave it,” Oliver presses, attempting to push Slade’s hands off him again.

“No, I want to see,” the Alpha growls, telling him to oblige.

The Omega doesn’t cease with his ineffective struggling however, Oliver not liking how Slade’s hands were again over where they once were, how close they were to the scar he’d left on him. This one not from training or knife gashes but from where the Alpha’s fingers had slipped through his skin like paper.

“You had your looking and touching last week, now get off of me,” Oliver urges, anxiousness creeping into his voice.

He doesn’t like it, didn’t think he could still get so worked up about it either. Because between the ongoing guilt of thinking he’d killed one of his only friends on the island, there was the also the matter Alpha could have really killed him. Easily. Just like how easy it seemed to be for Oliver to miscalculate the range of his strike and leave Slade with an arrow in his eye.

 _You had no choice_ , his mind might argue but by the same token he had been the one to inject the Alpha with the same substance that could have poisoned his mind that way. Warped his actions and made him do things he usually would not have.

Unfortunately for him, Slade doesn’t stop or seem to slow with his touches or observations on the Omega’s upper body.

“Yeah,” Slade says, seeming to agree with Oliver’s earlier sentence, “I barely touched you though.”

Slade’s and Oliver’s opinion would have to disagree on that.

“’Might have left you a couple bruises, nothing you wouldn’t get in a fight. You still whinging about that nick I gave you on your back below your ribs or something?”

 _Why can’t Slade just drop it_ , Oliver has to mentally ask himself.

As if to empathise the point, Slade weaves his hand to around Oliver’s chest, where he’s bunched up the Omega’s top and jacket, before slinking that palm underneath him. Even without the apparent added strength, Slade props Oliver up into a seated position, easing up off the Omega albeit moving his other hand to about the midpoint of Oliver’s spine.

There’s a thin mark there, healed over without any proper stitching so that the change in the skin texture is distinctly noticeable when the Alpha runs his thumb over it.

Oliver doesn’t seem to appreciate it as his response is to glower and try to work his trapped wrist out of Slade’s hand. His eyes betray that he’s getting worked up and the Alpha can only light-heartedly chuckle amused, still keeping his hold on the Omega.

“Don’t like it when I get touchy, do we?” Slade coos, “’Should have thought about that before you were so enthusiastic to get into bed with me.”

Slade just tsks, Oliver still fighting to get away from him yet not particularly forcefully, while he gravitates his free hand over the blemishes of the Omega’s body. There was some he’d never seen before or really bothered to take notice of whilst screwing Oliver’s brains out but that couldn’t be helped.

Most of the ones on the Omega’s back felt like training wounds, large proportions of split skin from bamboo lacerations or the rare times he’d pulled out his katana on the kid to try and better motive him to get his shit in gear.

Above that, right shoulder blade, is the entry wound from Yao Fei’s arrow. Slade’s knows this because it was the scar the kid used to complain about the most, that he’d been unnecessarily shot from behind and it may as well have ruined his flawless skin. Or at least that’s all he could make out from Oliver’s bitching.

“Let me go,” Oliver hisses as if on cue, using the free hand he’s trying to push Slade away with to finally punch him in the chest.

His fist connects though feeling the Alpha barely flinch in response causes Oliver to deflate slightly.

“You asshole!” the Omega spits, retracting his fist although Slade goes nowhere.

“Now, now wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Slade almost mocks and Oliver scowls back at him.

Sweeping his fingers past the sword slashes left from Billy Wintergreen on Oliver’s chest, Slade stops when he notices a wound he doesn’t recognize. It’s above the Omega’s left hip indent, where several punctures wounds have happened at the same time to almost form a crescent moon shape. They’re close-knit and could have possibly passed for a shark bite had there been more segregations.

“What’d you do to yourself here? One of those wolves on the island get you?”

Slade sees Oliver visibly swallow at his words with the expression that told him ‘ _I don’t want to talk about it_ ’. His face looks flush like all fight has left him, the Omega seeming to have instantly gone from being hostile towards Slade’s too close presence to looking like a deer caught in a car’s headlights.

Although Slade still really hates the kid—particularly because of the waking up with one of Oliver’s arrow’s sticking out of his head for seemingly no fucking reason and being left for dead—but right now he’s concerned about him.

He’s hiding something.

“Nothing, now let me go,” Oliver says, voice small and pulling back against the Alpha.

Slade tightens his grip slightly on _his_ Omega’s wrist, Alpha protective instincts kicking into overdrive when Oliver continually avoids his gaze.

“No, not now until you tell me what’s up with you.”

Warning bells sound off in Oliver’s head, telling him to get away from Slade.

What the hell was he thinking, trying to keep the Alpha at a distance from by Bonding him? It was the complete opposite of what a Bond implied, as shown through the last week that the mere scent of Slade sent the compulsive need through him to want to be around him.

At least not right now as without hormones clouding his judgement, having Slade’s hands on him intimately in any way, shape or form, was brewing up flashbacks he’d rather forget.

_Do… what does he do?!_

Oliver’s shaking, eyes wide and it’s not until a seemingly pacified Slade removes himself from him does the Omega notice. Unlike _last_ time, where the Alpha hadn’t done the noticing.

“Kid, what’s wrong? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Oliver’s not sure what Slade is supposed to be referring to, the matter of hurting him physically, emotionally or via doing so through the people he cared about.

Either way it didn’t matter as the mention of it causes the Omega to hiss back at the Alpha, thumping Slade in the chest as he scrambles upwards off of the table, yanking his clothing back down into place.

“That’s what you said last time!”

Slipping off and away from the table, Oliver snarls at Slade when he tries to follow him, who looks slightly taken aback.

He’s worked up, strung up—was even before Slade showed up in the picture, always with the weight of his crest-fallen city on his shoulder—but having a man he thought he’d once killed, intentions unknown, show up in his life again pulls that mortal coil so much tighter.

Especially when he’s not exactly sure how he feels about said Alpha and vice versa.

Either way, the past week had shown that the cool exterior he was usually able to mask behind and equally used to play the Vigilante with was practically void in Slade’s presence. The cracks in it even starting to show at the thought of the newly trudged up memories of Lian Yu.

 _Fuck_ … just when he thinks he has it all under control, can protect everyone with no risk to them, he has to go and crack under pressure. He’s so stupid, weak, just like always.

Behind him, the Omega’s back turned, he hears Slade’s approach, possibly uncertain how to take his mood swing that possibly looks to the Alpha that it’s came out of nowhere.

Oliver’s just trying to compose himself when Slade attentively places a hand on his shoulder, causing him to wheel around on the Alpha.

“No! You don’t get to apologize now for what you did!” Oliver yells, slapping the Alpha’s hand away from him.

Slade’s expression quickly contours from one of rare compassion to anger.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t stuck an arrow in my face!”

Oliver feels a twinge of guilt stab him through his fury, his response to the Alpha’s outburst not immediate.

The urge to punch Slade, defend himself, is there. Especially when he’s grown more used to physical assault than verbal and dishing it out in the same way. The sliver of his mind still retaining reason knows his violence is useless against Slade though, which he easily enough restrains himself from doing.

Knowing what he’d done to the Alpha, albeit accidently—probably damn near killed him—was likely unforgiveable.

Unlike how Slade in the situation had only been responding to how an Alpha usually did to an Omega in heat. Nurse them, bed them, knot them and put them out of their misery. Considering Slade had even restrained himself at all for a while was admirable, Oliver knowing better even despite his irritation that most Unbonded Alphas wouldn’t have shown him that much constraint in such a situation.

They would have taken advantage of his weakness, tried to sate his heat regardless of how much consent he gave.

And didn’t he at least give Slade the consent to do so, no matter how half-assed the verification of that fact might have been. And the Alpha had waited for that before he’d done anything serious, had left him for the most part alone, when he ran off into the woods at night, crying out and always with the potential to give their position away to any one of Fyer’s men who stumbled upon him.

And what did he do in return? ‘Kept Slade at a distance and nearly killed him when he’d gotten a bit too rough with him.

Even though it was his fault for needing to be saved in the first place. His fault for being too weak to prevent Ivo from taking him. For walking around in the open so close to his heat when really he should have been in hiding.

For causing Slade to run off in the first place in the grief of Shado’s death because he didn’t save her.

Slade just looks at him, eyes alive with burning intensity and Oliver feels the guilt of the situation singe his insides. Even if he’d never felt quite as bad about it until now, the Alpha coming at him with accusations. His anger melts away like ice under the gaze of the Sun, dwindling as Oliver steps backwards and grows passive under the Alpha’s fury.

“I didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, though Slade hears him clearly.

“You liar!” Slade spits back at him, hands dragging through his hair in agitation.

“It was an accident—”

Oliver tries to reason, knowing firmly in himself he’d never wanted to really hurt Slade, but the Alpha doesn’t see it that way.

“Don’t say it! I saved your sorry arse from Ivo and you repay me by ‘killing’ me and leaving me for dead! What was it? What was it that was so bad only now do you decide you want my fucking knot again? I was going to give you exactly—”

Slade’s nearly flown into a fit of rage when Oliver shouts over top of him, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You were going to kill me!”

Their conversation immediately comes to a halt, Oliver stiffening after the words have left his mouth.  Wondering whether it was the right thing to say when he can no longer determine the emotions crossing the Alpha’s face. He wants to glare back at him but it’s a half-hearted attempt at best when Slade’s expression grows sullen, looking like the Alpha’s entire demeanour has crumpled.

“You liar!” Slade tries to hiss but his voice cracks in the middle.

Oliver instinctively takes a step back though Slade takes one forward.

“Slade, I—”

“No!” Slade growls, low and without any of its usual fury, instead replaced by something Oliver can’t quite place.

“Don’t you lie to me, not about this... I kept your near useless arse alive for months, fucking Omegas like you don’t survive in the wild. They die—they get raped and killed, because it’s like the first sign of a lamb in front of a pack of starving wolves. Sometimes I was saving your arse week in and week out, because no matter how hard you tired they’d always catch hint of your scent.”

Oliver remembers that—Fyer’s men—the lengths he, or rather they, had to go to prevent them from stumbling upon them. The pleasing smell of an Omega in heat, the siren’s call that could go on for miles, calling or warnings its intended targets. Either way his heats on the island were hardly ever discreet, more often than not they attracted unwanted attention. Meaning people died left and right, courtesy of Slade—who for the first couple times was always perched not far away—even after Oliver would hiss at him to piss off and not follow him.

The Alpha never did anything though, wouldn’t alert him that he was there either until the _shank_ of a sword from its sheath rang out followed closely by the sliding of it through enemy flesh. They might have looked at each other for a moment—soldier’s body falling to the floor of the underbrush between them—Slade slightly twitching to distinctly keep from not coming near him. Oliver would always just scuffle away back into the shrub though, without thanks, only knowing he had to get away.

Get away to where it was safe, only there were no safe places. Not when Slade was easily enough able to track him and set up camp nearby, him completely oblivious to the other.

And now Slade’s done it again. So discreetly set up work, not even miles away from him, this time in his city, _his_ territory and Oliver wouldn’t have known any better unless Slade hadn’t let him.

Oliver visibly swallows, not knowing what to say, but stricken by the Alpha’s words and the memories it entailed all the same.

When Slade speaks again, the anguish in his voice is clearly detectable.

“You were always the most difficult thing about that wretched island yet I kept you alive all the same, for months! And now you have the indecency to try and tell me that I was going to kill you before you tried to kill me.”

 _He doesn’t know_ —Oliver thinks—Slade doesn’t know.

Even as the Alpha’s eye meets his own, gaze dark and half-accusing, like daring him to lie, lie again, like Slade’s seems to think he’s done the entire time.

And maybe he should, but how does he lie when he’s been telling the truth the entire time? How is he supposed to tell Slade that his love was painful, how he’d hurt him enough though the Alpha might think he was the only one that had gotten hurt here.

How is Oliver supposed to say that Slade’s attempt to ‘care for him’ back on Ivo’s freighter was closer to killing him?

He should lie, he really should. He’s good at that when no one will be getting hurt because of Oliver’s kept secrets.

He doesn’t.

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“What wasn’t?” Slade perks up, before roaring at him, “The part where you stabbed me in the head!”

Oliver flinches, forcing himself to still and take the man’s anger as Slade needed to know. If he tells the truth—which he would have assumed the Alpha had known all along, why Oliver had left him for dead because he thought he was dead, hadn’t meant to hurt the Alpha had only wanted him off of him —maybe it will bury the hatchet of the situation.

Slade still seething, Oliver waits until a moment of silence has passed between them, continually avoiding the Alpha’s gaze.

Attentively, he goes for the side of his jacket, ruffling it up along with his shirt, pulling up the corner of the left side.

“I didn’t notice it at first,” Oliver begins, the Alpha still staring at him with a gaze like a hawk’s, “after… I was prepared to let you knot me, ‘cause no harm there and I trusted you. You’d been… really good around me…  It might have been a stupid idea but I don’t think either of us were in the right frame of mind to know any better”

Oliver slows, forcing himself to remember distinctly what had happened, the parts he would purposely try to forget about.

“I wanted it, yeah I wanted it. I was in too much pain to not want it. But…”

There was always the but, Oliver pausing to swallow and avert his gaze from Slade not wanting to see the look on his face.

“There was blood… from where you’d had your hands one me, five fine punctures on the left… Which I didn’t notice until after… ‘cause I was so worked up about what had happened, but it still hurt.”

They’d been so deep, _so deep_ , at the time. Ached the entire time as Sara dragged him from Ivo’s freighter, had pleaded with him they had to go. He’d need stitching if he didn’t hope to bleed out. They didn’t look life-threatening, as he was able to push them aside in his heartbroken agony, but Sara hadn’t been willing to take that chance.

“No.”

“You were so rough… I thought I could take it but I couldn’t… and I knew I had to do something… I didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t mean to. It wasn’t your fault though.”

Oliver knows he might just be babbling by now as he’s barely acknowledging Slade in front of him.

“No…”

“The scar… I deserved it; it was like the last thing I had to remember you by…”

“No, you lie!”

Oliver flinches, gaze snapping back onto Slade where the Alpha’s hand is wrapped around his wrist. Immediately tugging it away from where the Omega is half haphazardly holding up the side of his shirt.

Not bothering to push Slade away, Oliver lets the Alpha place fingers over his body. He knows what Slade is going to see without even having to look.

“Not the first scar you gave me… but definitely the most painful one.”

Maybe not in terms of the wound itself but what it signified. _So right it had been… so wrong it had gone._

“You lie!” Slade says, forcing their eyes to meet by giving Oliver a half jolt, “You said it yourself you spent another four years on that island.”

That was true…

“You really don’t remember?” Oliver forces himself to say, voice cracking as he stares into the darkness of the Alpha’s eye.

Sees how much the Alpha wants to deny what he’s saying.

Eyes still locked with Slade’s, he takes the Alpha’s hand resting on the bottom of his ribcage, pulls it downward and lets his thumb wrap around the back of his hip.

Slade looks down and so does Oliver.

Slade’s fingertips are near-on perfectly conformed to the scar, the tissue left over. Inch by inch of skin with the small gaps of unscathed areas in-between.

When Slade pulls away, Oliver forces himself to look back at him, instinctively feeling the need to apologize, though not sure what for. Only that he should.

“Slade, I—”

His words are cut off by the door slamming.

And with it Slade was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scar on Oliver’s left hip _is_ actually there in canon, you can see it in the promo pics.


	8. The Reaping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting this chapter, this is my attempt at shorter chapters and more often.
> 
> For those of you who feel like you haven’t been spending enough time with Slade lately, this chapter’s for you!

Exiting Verdant, Slade staggers outside unable to handle it anymore.

What Oliver was saying, it was all just becoming white noise. He didn’t want to hear it anymore and he doesn’t have to as it was becoming thoroughly drowned out by his own self-hatred screaming at him.

_He thinks you’re a monster._

He slams the door hard behind him, somewhat involuntarily, not caring if it breaks or falls off its hinges.

Only wanting to give Oliver the signal not to follow him, don’t come after him as Slade’s not quite sure what he’ll do. His heart’s thumping behind his ribcage, faster than normal which is already quicker than a normal person’s—too fast, and he’s crumpling onto the side of his Lamborghini to keep from want of falling to the ground.

_He’s right y’know?_

Slade narrowly avoids crushing the door handle in his anguish as he fumbles for it, eyes still on Verdant as he tries to compose himself. He’d parked the car really conspicuously too, between the club and a dead end of a wall, the luxury vehicle possibly looking really out of place in the Glades.

_Did you see the look on his face?_

He’d been too pissed off, too worked up to care about concealing it or anyone noticing it as he sped through town to the crappier edges of the city not even an hour ago. He’d waited too long, had waited all week, for the opportunity when Slade could pounce on Oliver and continue their alleged discussion.

_He says it’s not your fault, but it is…_

Originally, he thought the idea of the Vigilante finding out what _they_ were up to, or at least Slade’s involvement, would be one part annoying and the other part slightly amusing—that Oliver knew that the he was going to hurt the Omega just as he had hurt him.

Blood declaring he had the Arrow still lit his veins on fire though, pissed him right off that the Beta couldn’t follow a simple set of instructions.

To stay away from the Vigilante.

But the Beta obviously found him way too threatening to his campaign, too risky a threat to the Beta’s reputation to let run around. Lest the Vigilante start doing some digging, shifting through Sebastian’s past and could likely find something incriminating given his resources.

Sebastian wouldn’t be running for mayor or getting his shining city of gold to rebuild into his own image—Blood’s half of the deal for his work, albeit how disobedient it was becoming—if the Vigilante started slandering him.

Or just put an arrow in him.

Even without the Arrow’s direct interference, if such information were to land on Laurel Lance’s or her father’s desk, the Beta would likely not see the outside of a cell. Sebastian would talk too, he’d break, would give Slade’s name away, because although efficient _sometimes_ the Beta was still a coward.

If that were to happen, although guns and the police were no threat to him, Slade would still be forced to flee Starling City, likely America as well as there would no doubt be an arrest warrant out for him.

He’d rather not be a fugitive either (because he will resist arrest in every sense of the word), so it shouldn’t surprise Slade that Blood went ahead and tried to have the Vigilante put into the ground anyway. More so when Blood decided the former alone wasn’t enough, has to torture and humiliate the one who has no doubt plagued his mind with feelings of anxiousness for weeks now.

Slade was even more surprised with himself when he got defensive about Oliver though.

Sure, he had told Blood to stay away from the Omega in the first place for want of not trying to kill him, though that obviously didn’t stopped Sebastian from getting unintentionally too close, at least for Slade’s liking, to Oliver and he can’t intervene there without looking somewhat suspicious.

So he had let it slide, hoping the Beta wouldn’t connect the dots between the Arrow and Oliver Queen. But when Blood had rung him up like a dog bringing back a prized bone to its master expecting a pet he had wished the Beta were in front of him so he could throttle him.

Arrogant piece of shit Beta. Couldn’t even follow a simple set of instructions.

Sebastian was too happy with himself to be intimidated over the phone though, had just gleefully went on about how his Brother had the vigilante Omega pinned, oh, and he was going into heat too.

 _Fuck_ …

Slade had cursed allowing Sebastian to have Alphas under his scrutiny to begin with, yet Betas probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference, were still known to put their hands over a ready Omega. Albeit less intently than an Alpha would.

Slade doesn’t even remember what he was doing at the time Blood came calling—likely not sleeping even at the hour—only that every other thought was disregarded when he hears an Alpha has got Oliver cornered on the other side of town.

It might have be his Alpha instincts rearing up but no other Alpha—or anyone for that matter—was allowed to be near _his_ Omega in heat.

Slade was the first Alpha to be granted that honour and he would be the last.

Because although Oliver still needed to be punished and made to suffer for his actions, practically trying to kill him and gutting Slade more in the feelings than anything else, the Omega never appreciated anyone near him during his heats.

This was a known fact from spending months on the island with the kid, weeks that would always turn into anxious waiting games of how much attention Oliver would attract when really he could solve _both_ of their problems in a heartbeat.

Oliver was vigilant in fobbing his advances off though, no matter how many people he ended up having to kill as a by-product of the Omega’s pheromones sending out invitations to every Alpha that he was in heat, albeit unwilling to likely stay put for anyone.

Such resistant and unwillingness was more something Slade would have expected from a Bonded Omega. Not that he would ever claim to be an expert on Bonded behaviour himself, having never been so himself or having really been that way inclined.

He was an intelligence spy for Christ’s sake, he didn’t have time for Omegas and even if he did, leaving them and being apart from one another for his missions constantly would have be too painful.

It would have been far too much strain to be expected to maintain a Bond over, and many Bonded pairs had died over such heartbreak.

But when he had an Unbonded Omega, not even several feet from him, going through a horrendous heat. Not only worn down by it but by malnourishment, the harshness of the conditions he had to live in the Omega has yet to adapt to or will not likely ever be properly suited to, screw it, screw everything.

All that Bonding shit, that was very well possible, but what had it mattered when they all could have likely ended up dead on that island anyway?

And Slade would have been be damned if he doesn’t at least try and enjoy himself back then. Or be driven insane by the Omega in agony making a ruckus as he stumbled away from him.

Of course, Oliver didn’t appreciate Slade following him, was too stubborn to realise that he’d been looking out for the Omega.

Had to make sure that no one kidnapped Oliver lest he be tortured and give up his location. Slade also watched to make sure the kid didn’t get himself raped and killed, did even after the mess with Fyer’s men blew over and they were deemed slightly safer.

The only time he was ever prepared to stop tracking and looking out for Oliver during his heats was when he had half his face blown off, chasing said Omega to try and tackle him to the ground so the kid didn’t get himself killed by an explosion.

He made Shado promise to find Oliver, even if he didn’t end up making it.

To go after Oliver as he would have been nearing a heat cycle soon—about every eight weeks was around when the kid seemed to go—and with their new visitors on the island—whom Oliver seemed to have been taken by—they couldn’t afford to be as lax about it as they had grown to be.

Letting Oliver just nick off into the woods unsupervised until Slade found he was too anxious to not go after him.

He waited partially because he’s not sure if when he gave chase to the kid that Shado would follow as well.

They’d been like kindred spirits the two of them, Alphas that seemed to know nothing better than how to survive, and that’s why they’d gotten along so well. But he’d been hard-pressed enough with trying to get anywhere with Oliver then and would prefer not to have the competition.

For another Alpha, Shado’s had still managed to be a satisfying lay though, both of them likely needing the distraction from the Omega in heat running off from them. Shado complained at first, obviously not wanting to be the receptive partner _again._

It’s in her nature not to; just as Slade could never blame her—smelling the change in Oliver’s scent that signalled he’d go into heat within hours—for trying to bang him down by the river only hours ago that day. For taking advantage of the kid’s guilt over just murdering someone to try and get close to him, not just emotionally.

Shado had mildly teased him, had said she’d show him how it was done then had chased after Oliver’s arse, which usually she was more respectful of, seeing how he obviously felt. He discreetly had followed his fellow Alpha, even though when Oliver truly comes into heat and departs their presence, Slade would be telling Shado to mind their camp whilst he minds Oliver.

Never quite sure yet how to handle someone else around the Omega in heat, especially another Alpha, only knowing he had wanted them away from a ready Oliver.

It never happened though, just like Slade thought and knew from personal experience. Oliver wouldn’t stay for Shado so she had to reluctantly settle for giving the Omega control of the situation. Which did nothing for Oliver’s on setting heat but obviously the kid’s tried either way.

Shado had let herself be the receptive partner thankfully again for him, yet it all ended up being for nought as he couldn’t quite distract himself from the thoughts of the kid roaming his mind. That he should have been out there watching Oliver, making sure nothing happened to him, because although their position looked safe and secure, no more enemies to run and hide from, Slade had known better.

So did Shado, who couldn’t help but notice when the name that left his lips in quiet rasps wasn’t hers and that he purposely took her from behind, like one would need to with an Omega male.

The way he purposefully left her breasts and vulva alone so as not to break the image.

Yet Oliver would be taller, broader in the shoulders, would likely support his weight draped over top of him a lot better than Shado’s smaller frame had, and he ended up losing the illusion anyway.

Shado didn’t say anything—letting another Alpha screw her even when it didn’t do much by either of them except waste a little bit of their time—because if there had been any stronger or equally so aspect in Shado to her strength, it was her understanding.

That’s why when the sun was riding low in the sky and they’d both broken away from one another, Shado gave him the gesture to leave, go after his Omega.

That’s why, even though he had always asked Shado to stay away from Oliver during heat, when Slade had his face half torn-off, he thought he could entrust that task of watching over the Omega to Shado.

He had wanted to go himself—vigorously chase after Oliver and find wherever the bastards where holding him captive were, be there for Oliver when he inevitably went into heat even though he would reject every advance he has.

But knew he couldn’t do any of those things when he could barely stand.

Shado took the task diligently of foremost finding but most of all watching over Oliver. Even though she wouldn’t leave his side at the time and didn’t want him attempting to move anywhere either. She seemed to treat the situation just as seriously as he did though with less focus on chasing Oliver’s arse for the hope of knotting.

Slade will never really know though, whether he was right in trusting Shado to deal with Oliver’s heats, as their search and inevitable attempted rescue of the Omega went off without a hitch.

Or at least it appeared to, Oliver having pulled along a Beta female in his timely getaway from the men holding them hostage.

This bothered Slade, the two seeming to known each other. He could smell they weren’t Bonded, not that they could—even with Oliver’s poor attempt at masking himself with dirt—or anything of the sort which had put his mind slightly to rest as he was slowly dying.

Even now, Slade had known Oliver wasn’t Bonded, had known the Omega was still very much within his reach despite not having seen the other in years.

Everyone thinks Oliver Queen is a Beta, proof the kid’s masking his dynamic like he’d implied to Slade he’d done before the island. The only way he could Bond, being an Omega, was to be the receptive partner during sex to an Alpha.

By the tabs Slade was keeping on him, being the cameras he’s had discreetly placed around Verdant and watching the media—which was usually an annual broadcast for the rich, particularly the Queen’s lives—the last time he had anything to worry about was when Oliver and his co-CEO were in Russia together.

That was the last time Oliver and anyone who could be a potential mate to him had been thoroughly associating together. Though Isabel didn’t seem like the distinctively straight type, usually favouring other Alphas to Betas or Omegas.

The flying off to Moscow had been the most threatening to Slade, almost certain the Omega wasn’t Bonded at that point as if anyone knew the truth about his dynamic it would be all over the news, but if he went off with that woman there was no telling what would happen.

Luckily Oliver returned within forty-eight hours, Slade not having yet worked out an excuse to give to Sebastian to go after the Omega. Which then there were still flights and time zone changes to consider yet Oliver came back on his own, thankfully without that other Alpha hanging off his arm.

Otherwise, if she’d looked like she’d made to Bond with him, Oliver willing or not, Slade would have snapped her neck.

Or be it anyone else who he deemed was too close to _his_ Omega.

It doesn’t matter if it was Oliver’s co-CEO or be it anyone; even Blood’s associates weren’t out of those crossfires if they stepped into them.

If Sebastian hadn’t argued that this Alpha used to be a preacher and they usually wouldn’t put hands on any Omegas, Bonded or not, Slade would have been running down there to lop his head off.

No matter how annoying that would have been as that’s another wasted vial of the replicated Mirakuru.

No matter, everything else went on hold at that point and was irrelevant as Oliver’s was in heat (what the fuck was he doing?), weakened and out in the Glades.

If Sebastian wasn’t so much closer to the Glades and preferably Slade should still have kept himself to the shadows at this point of the operation—as he had done over the past few years—he would have made to get down there himself sooner.

Instead he’d been comfortable to sit back and wait for Blood to deliver Oliver to his custody, that way no one else put their hands over Oliver walking around the streets. That might be bordering on overprotective of him but Oliver wouldn’t know it was him.

If Oliver got to keep his mask on, so did Slade.

He didn’t get the opportunity to suit up and mentally prep himself for seeing Oliver again, though as before that could happen apparently Blood’s Brother had gone and lost the Vigilante. Which was even worse, Oliver running around the Glades in heat, then at least in the hands of someone Slade mildly trusted.

It reminded Slade of the island days too much, Alphas stumbling through the bushes to catch Oliver’s scent that he would end up having to put his sword through or bullets into  to stop their approach.

He called Sebastian off, knowing he’d have to go after Oliver himself then, no time to suit up, just go—Lamborghini effortlessly hitting the speed limit as he rushed through the near-deserted roads of the city going on midnight.

He hadn’t smelt Oliver’s scent in years, knowing it wouldn’t smell the same as he remembers either as no one’s got a solid dynamic to the Arrow. Apparently he wears a scent blocker, yet Slade had to trust his nose and instincts anyway to get him to Oliver once he neared the hotel.

It did, or really didn’t have to as Oliver practically walked straight to him up through the alleyway coming for his bow.

There had also been another nuisance between them, an Alpha who’d no doubt noticed the albeit faint pheromones Oliver had started to let off as the scent neutralizer started to wane off him in the presence of the Omega’s scent overpowering the masking.

He’d snapped the newcomer’s neck for daring coming near his Omega, not caring that he hasn’t been discreet about it. Or really knowing he’d done it until Slade had snaked his hands around the man’s throat, threatening to pull his voice box out.

No one got to touch Oliver, _no one_ , especially not right when the Omega looked dazed and on the verge of collapsing.

He’d kill him. He’d kill Blood’s Alpha for pulverising Oliver!

Or he deemed he would later after he assessed Oliver’s condition, as some of it could have just been his heat deliberating him, as at the time he’d staggered over still clad in vigilante attire.

Slade had known from the beginning, or at least had a fairly accurate idea of who the hooded vigilante was when he’d started showing up in the news. Even without having been in Starling at the time, only knowing that Oliver was back from the dead and the green-hooded crusader showing up around the same time couldn’t have just been a coincidence.

Green hood… Shado’s hood, Oliver had kept it after all those years.

Seeing it sent a twinge of pain through Slade, the symbolism of Oliver wearing her hood even years on sticking out to him. That Oliver had possibly cared for her more than he did him.

Obviously seeing as he’d been the one to end up with an arrow in his head.

He’d wanted to ask him at the time, be furious at Oliver about why he’d done it.

When the Omega collapses onto him—or Slade prevents him from entirely doing so on the floor—he can’t bring himself to want to ask. Not right now. Not when Oliver needed him to protect him, like he’d always done during the Omega’s heats.

Or at least it seems that way, the Omega growing lax in his arms, before jolting away from him. Realizing this was not the presumed hallucination Oliver thought it was.

Slade remembers when he thought to himself that coming face-to-face with Oliver again would be one part annoying and the other part slightly amusing. Well, he found out he was wrong… the former turned out to only be one half of the equation.

Seeing and being around Oliver again—which was mostly just the two of them growing frustrated at one another—was all of those things, but it was also relieving and equally internally destroying.

Their first re-encounter together wasn’t exactly a hospitable experience.

The sex was equally unexpected yet Slade was still prepared for the moment Oliver went to jab his other eye out. Seeing the Omega again, alive, very much alive, it feels like it had changed something within him. Like he doesn’t want to hurt him, can’t hurt him.

Not if he wants to be Oliver’s Alpha, take him as his own. He has to protect him instead, which starts with keeping Blood away from him. Or it would, but before he could throttle Blood something else comes up.

He’d grown placid over the next couple days, too so, like he’s been backing right off Oliver’s case completely. Not that he was going to go after him again immediately as the Arrow drops off the streets and Oliver looks like he’s trying to drop out of his sight as well as he avoids Verdant.

Or anywhere that Slade could catch him out without causing a scene for that matter.

Preferably without violence and this time the Omega _not_ being in heat.

Just wants to see Oliver.

It works, as the only place Slade knew certain to find him then is at Queen Consolidated or at the mansion, neither of which are desirable places to see one another as they’re both too public.

Too much at risk if either one of them were to slip up.

So again, he had waited, he’s good at that. Very patient considered he’d waiting for four years for Oliver to come back from the dead. That patience expires when he noticed _it_. The real reason Oliver had let himself be knotted.

Bastard had managed to Bond him.

Or rather he’d Bonded Oliver as the Alpha was always the one to initiate it, but the receptive partner had to be willing as well.

Stupid, deceptive and manipulative little Omega!

Thinking he could pull something like that to keep him at a distance and not expect any repercussions on himself.

The moment Slade found out about that, screw waiting. Screw everything, he’d swing by Oliver’s house if he had to and introduce himself to the family. First Verdant though, as that was the less risky option and he could always leave his scent everywhere there that way Oliver knew he’s coming for him.

Things did not go in his favour though as right now Slade has to resist the urge to go back into Verdant. He wants to go back in there and scream at Oliver that he was lying again. That he was just saying all of this to hurt him, hurt him again like he always seemed to.

He wrenches himself away from there though, knowing better, finally knowing better.

Slade had nearly killed him… he’d nearly killed that stupid Omega. The one he’d been jealous of when Shado had put her hands all over him. Possibly the last distinctly good thing he had on Lian Yu, or just in general, before it all turned to shit… and he’d nearly utterly annihilated him without even knowing it.

_He was right to try and kill you, you monster._

And now, after all this time, Slade thought he was in the right trying to take revenge. Take everything away from Oliver like he feels the Omega had from him.

He was so wrong, so unbelievably wrong.

He’s fucked up so badly and somehow his mind had just ended up warping everything out of proportion.

_It’s all your fault._

Slade stumbles upwards, realizing he’s still leaning against his car outside the side of Verdant. The door’s still closed, the way he left it.

He doesn’t want to see Oliver, can’t see him right now. Obviously Oliver doesn’t want to see him right now either, probably hates him, is relieved he’s left.

Fumbling for the key fob in his pocket and getting into his car, Slade has to hope Oliver won’t come. Don’t come chasing after him because if the Omega’s going to, it better be to put another arrow in him.

_Don’t come, Oliver._

_Don’t come._

_I don’t want to hurt you._

_Not again…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you might be wondering as well why I didn’t sum up things from Slade’s point of view through flashbacks. Which I could have, and it would have likely been more efficient, but this method was quicker. I may right this in future with some flashbacks of his own.
> 
> Also, in canon it’s implied that Slade has a son (as he does in the comics). Here we’re going to disregard those facts as we’re already got a lot going on as it is.


	9. Worlds Apart

He should have lied.

_You should have lied… he didn’t need to know._

Oliver tells himself as the door slamming shut in its frame seems to vibrate through the whole underground area and settle in his stomach, rattling his nerves.

The urge to go after Slade is there; tear out after the Alpha, even though he knows he stands no chance of catching up to Slade if he really wanted to get away.

Be alone, and get away from him.

Which was assuming he’d driven down here in the first place, which Slade at least seemed to have done the other night when he came after him. Then Oliver could always try and flag him down by bike on the way back to the Alpha’s mass headquarters in the nicer part of the city.

He’d hadn’t had a chance to on the initial day of ending up there and the later hightailing it from there but Oliver had scoped out the exact location of the building in the week following their first encounter.

Having more free time on his hands than he usually did, having hung up the Arrow temporarily, Oliver had begun to survey the building from a discreet distance after work sometimes.

Which turned out to only be a couple blocks down from Queen Consolidated.

Evaluating potential points of entries, the buildings he’d need to be on to duck through to the higher floors—which he’d worked out that the one Slade seemed to alternate on was a reasonable distance up when he’d jumped  out over the balcony from one of the living quarters there. As well as where it was safest to make said jumps from, not every floor having verandas and balconies, only walls of glass that if needed to jump through in a hurry could half-maim him to death.

More so, Oliver spent a lot of those times, looking and waiting, over the past couple days on the lookout for Slade. Seeing if he could catch him out with his mask on yet not knowing what he’d say all the same.

It was obvious they both weren’t the same people they were five years ago, but even with all his planning and trying to take that into consideration, their expected and inevitable conversation did not end up going his way.

It didn’t look as if it had went either of their ways regardless as Slade’s stormed out and he’s immediately going for his bow.

Pulling out the wooden box—not that of his regular compound bow—from its place of storage under a steel cabinet.

Needing the comfort and stability, the control that wielding a bow could only ever seem to give him. The element he’d honed to perfection over all the years as his mind begins to ruminate over the events passed.

He relegates the fraying box to an unoccupied table before flipping it open, revealing the wooden recurve bow inside. Where it had stayed since he’d last dared use it in taking down Malcolm Merlyn.

Back then, he had no time to consider waiting for a replacement bow. Only had hours before the Alpha was going to attempt to put half of the city underground.

Here, even with another on the way though, Oliver needs the composure of the weapon. Not intending to sully it or take it out on the streets with him, only needing it in the here and now, feeling his composure beginning to slip. ‘Was even before Slade started really getting under his skin with mentions of how he’d stabbed the Alpha.

Self-defence… it was self-defence, right? He’d killed people before on the island in the name of self-defence, when it was your life or theirs on the line.

 _How had that been any different?_ , Oliver asks himself regarding Slade as he runs his fingertips over the limbs of Yao Fei’s long bow. The one that Shado had begun to train him with whilst also taking it up as her own.

It was built for someone shorter in height than him, at least a couple inches as the draw string and weight wasn’t as best suited to him as it could be. Which he’d found out after months of using those custom-made to his height.

Picking it up doesn’t ease the strain of his thought process though, dozens of stray observations afloat in his head. Like how the situation with Slade had been different from anyone else he’s had to kill, post-island or on it, because that time it had been personal. It had been different.

That time it hadn’t been about going to put an arrow into a target on his father’s list, or having to do the same to a solider on the island who he knew would kill him if he didn’t. It had been Slade, short and simple, a friend not a foe. Not out to hurt him, hell not even out to smack him around with training.

‘Was out to save him and Oliver possibly owed Slade his life for that. Because if the Alpha hadn’t shown up when he did, or even at all, Ivo probably would have been splitting him open on a table and sifting through his innards.

He doesn’t even know how Sara—a complete stranger and someone Slade had still considered an enemy at that point, or at least not an ally—had convinced the Alpha to go after him. Or at least attempt to as the boat would have had to have been docked or anchored close to land for it to even be accessible from the island.

Either way, it was a suicide mission and the fact that Slade—the one who’d originally said he’d kill him if turned out to be a hindrance—had even gone along with it and succeeded was beyond him.

He had not been worth been worth the risk at all, wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to die for him either or because of him—like Shado had—if the choice was his.

But by the same token, he had wanted to save Yao Fei from Fyer’s men when given the chance, so if anything, Slade coming to rescue him makes the matter of nearly killing him all the more painful.

_What was I supposed to do though?_

A question that Oliver had fretted over and asked himself many times since that day. That if he could have done things differently what would he have done? Would he have still chosen to attack Slade, even though in his frenzied state he’d ended up hurting the Alpha in the first place?

He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t meant to, but if he hadn’t _accidentally_ mortally wounded Slade, would he even have been able to stop the Alpha from encroaching on him? Slade was stronger, faster, always had been—even before the Mirakuru—and when it came down to the wire, the Alpha still could have…

 _No_ , why was he thinking that?

Slade had never taken advantage of him before, even whilst him being in heat, and the last time he didn’t consider the Alpha to have done so either.

Heats were painful enough as it is, let alone as Oliver had found on the island, having an Unbonded Alpha who didn’t seem to want to leave him alone—literally—during said heats. It intensified every sensation and seemed to lengthen the periods that the fever-like spells would stay with him.

Slade could stop that, stop all of it and they both knew he could. Bring to a halt the crippling pains panging him. It would be simple.

But Oliver had also had it drilled into him by his father that if he let himself go just around any Alpha, not one of his family’s choosing in a proper courtship, he was then worthless. He’d betray his family and stain his bloodline as an Omega should always remain _pure_ for ‘their’ Alpha.

He didn’t want to disappoint his father any more than he already had, as apparently as an Omega in their sort of families; their only hope was to be courted off for obscene amounts of money. That of which only similar families would be able to pay the dowry fee for. If he went and let someone else take him, that dowry fee would practically be void, especially if someone else could testify to him no longer being virginal.

Because while Oliver might not have been the Alpha his father wanted, rightfully continuing on their bloodline, apparently he would still fetch a fine price once his father deemed he was ‘of age’.

Before the island, Oliver hadn’t really been put into a situation where the former could have been the case—being an Alpha trying to come on to him and him potentially going along with it. Nobody knew he was an Omega so there were scarce few that would try to come onto him with the intention of him being the receptive partner.

So it wasn’t a particularly hard matter to skate around though he did still feel a twinge of annoyance at Robert for not allowing him to be on a better form of concealment than _just_ suppressants.

People like Laurel and plenty of other Omegas had contraceptive implants, meaning they didn’t have to have heats for years. So technically they could exist as a Beta but whilst still being an Omega, just like he was for all purposes doing with the added disadvantage of still needing to lock himself away every couple months.

When he’d made the unintentional comment of that to his father, he’d looked at him like he was disgusted. Making comments about how those things decreased fertility and even if he did agree with it, no more doctors or people in the medical field needed to know that his son wasn’t a Beta than the few that already did.

People who had been paid for their silence.

Oliver didn’t press the subject at the time anymore though he was fairly certain his mother had a more conventional method of dealing with heats than suppressants, then he did, before she no doubt hit menopause.

He’d done everything his father wanted him to do, so if Robert had just buckled in the first place and let him go on something better than suppressants, he wouldn’t have had the issue of Alpha-trying-to-come-onto-him-but-father-wanted-him-to-remain-pure. Especially in his father’s passing, where even though he was gone those thoughts of betraying his father still hung over him like a black cloud.

It made being around an Alpha, which he’d never been around in his heats before, that much more of a conflicting decision. Torn between waiting out his own sufferance, which surely felt like it would kill him eventually, and displeasing his father even in the grave. Who had also left him with the burden of his last words being for him to try and right his wrongs, or something of the sort.

Despite the pain that it cause him, he stood by Robert’s wishes, and Slade stood by his. That no matter what happened, he didn’t _want_ the Alpha. It wasn’t him but the lust talking as his mind was just about begging him to _do something_ , anything to ease how unbearable his heats were.

With Yao Fei it didn’t seem that bad, like the Alpha purposefully made sure to be out when his scent started to change indicating he was close, the twice that it had happened around him. Even when Yao Fei did return he seemed very aloof to Oliver’s presence, like nothing had changed and he may as well not be in heat for all the attention he wasn’t getting.

Yao Fei was super human, that much was sure. Or Bonded and wouldn’t touch him for daring to dishonour his mate.

Slade, on the other hand, was fairly the same. Albeit it seemed to take him noticeably more effort to back away from him when his body was no doubt telling him to knot the Omega.

Maybe that’s why he ended up warming to Slade, even as an Alpha he should be hostile and wary of. He seemed to be able to do the impossible and resist the allure of an Omega’s overpowering pheromones. Even when the reality of the situation was, that people would find him, and the least amount of time he spent unintentionally signalling off their location the better.

It was a wonder Slade hadn’t killed him or just knotted him regardless of what he said. It wasn’t the first time Oliver had put them in danger and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

And although it was noticeably hard for Slade to keep his hands off on him, Oliver would argue it was more so difficult for him. Never having experienced anything quite like it before— heats not dulled by hormone suppressants and the added pressure of being clearly in Alpha territory with their scents wrapping all around him.

If Slade hadn’t been half-content to stay away from, Oliver is sure, ashamedly enough, that he would have been throwing himself at the other man’s feet, begging him to take his pain away.

But it didn’t happen, and if anything the Alpha could have been considered gentlemanly around him during those times.

It was only when the Alpha was likely under the influence of a mind-altering drug—the Mirakuru—did his self-control seem to buckle. Slade has his chance, as Oliver’s finally gotten to the point where stuff it, screw his father. He’s not going to put himself in more danger and pain than necessary for the sake of old-fashioned courtships that had mostly died out from the modern world decades ago.

He was okay with _it_ , the sex didn’t have to mean anything unless…

Unless…

Snapping out of his thoughts, Oliver finishes grabbing up Shado’s bow as if it will help steady his mind and the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken.

“ _Duìbùq_ _ǐ_ ,” he whispers, Chinese fluent, as if to ask the forgiveness of her spirit.

For taking up her bow like this. For his own weakness.

xxxxxxxx

Almost every inch of the west wall by the stairs is littered with arrows and their intended targets—most of them tennis balls and pieces of scrap metal left over from the club’s construction—by the time Dig and Felicity walk into the basement.

Oliver doesn’t seem to notice them as he’s already nocked another arrow in the shaft of his longbow, three fingers drawn back on the string to plant it into the concrete wall with the rest.

Dig and Felicity know without even having to look at Oliver that he’s tense, can tell it from the very atmosphere.  The way his natural scent was even starting to slip out from his Beta ‘composure’, sign that he hasn’t reapplied the coverage sprays he uses in a while.

“Whoa, Oliver,” Felicity quips, walking over, tablet in one hand and a large, metal box in the other.

“Empty the entire quiver why don’t you?”

Oliver drops his shooting stance instantly, dominant hand dropping off the bow and taking notice of the contents the Beta was carrying.

“What took you for so long?” he bites out with slightly more venom than necessary.

“Sorry, my plane only landed like three hours ago and I made sure to pick up this,” Felicity responds, not wanting to deal with Oliver’s obviously displeased attitude, hauling the box up onto the steel table.

She flicks open the large latch on it, Oliver immediately coming over looking like he’s lost interest in giving her a lecture.

It contained a custom-made Oneida Kestrel, practically identical to the last, albeit without the wear and tear damage the first had accumulated.

“Got the message saying it had arrived earlier,” Felicity adds, standing to the side as she lets Oliver observe his bow, the Omega picking it up to look over it intently. Testing things like the draw string and the weight of the bow.

Dig walks up beside Felicity, having picked her up from the train station and made the detour with her to pick up Oliver’s bow, arguing that she shouldn’t go alone, even though there was no trouble. Better to be safe than sorry after all.

“Nice to see you’ve decided to show your face around here again, Oliver,” Dig says, expression warming as it looks like Oliver’s finally decided to stop avoiding them and show his face around Verdant.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice. The city never sleeps and I need to get back out there,” Oliver puts bluntly and to the point, brow furrowing though it looks like he deems his bow to be fine.

Taking it over to where he kept the old, broken one in its stand and replacing it. He only sets it down for the moment before pulling off his jacket and going over to the glass casing containing his Arrow hood and gear.

“Isn’t it a bit early for the Arrow to come out?” Dig speaks up, quirking an eyebrow.

The sun wasn’t even going down yet and usually Oliver would wait till night out before venturing out as the Arrow. The cover of the shadows obviously made it easier for him to move about undetected, further helping him conceal his identity. In the daylight, more people were likely to take notice and most people didn’t respond civilly to the Arrow.

“No, as it is I’m making up for lost time,” Oliver affirms, shrugging out of his shirt and dropping his quiver aside to proceed to pull apart his vigilante attire from its mannequin.

Dig and Felicity share a glance, knowing it’s futile to try and stop Oliver as he’s pulling on his archery gloves.

Felicity speaks up anyway.

“You didn’t even see what Barry left you.”

“Whatever it is I’m sure I don’t want it,” Oliver scowls, not even giving the Beta a sideways glance.

It was probably something sexist about him being an Omega. Stupid kid had seemed so fascinated with his dynamic in the first place that he can almost be thankful for the Beta being in a coma right now, at least that way he’s keeping his mouth shut.

“Well, if you insist on going out on the daylight, I’m going to have to insist you take this,” Felicity presses.

Opening up the box Barry left on one of the tables and taking it over to Oliver where he’s doing up his arm bracers.

“Hmph, fine, but I don’t see what—” Oliver goes to start but pauses midsentence noticing the Beta’s gift.

In the box is a small mask, a dark-green, near black one. Designed to only cover the eyes.

He pauses doing up his equipment, taking the mask out of the box and remembering how Barry had made comment about him not having one.

Felicity smiles warmly, watching Oliver take the other Beta’s gift and put it on.

“I imagine it’ll work better than the grease paint does.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything but leaves the mask on, flicking his hood overtop of it.

He gets up, brushing past Dig and Felicity to grab his aluminium-carbon arrows to restock his quiver with. Rather than the general carbon ones he’s grown accustomed to using. The aluminium composite offering deeper penetration, which he’d need if he hoped to hurt Slade.

 _Slade…_ he doesn’t know if he’s going to see the Alpha out of the streets again but for the moment he needs the Arrow as a distraction from him. Even if that is inadvertently making him an easier target for Slade to sneak up on, seeing as neither of them want to see the other with company.

Leaving Verdant, he knows at least he doesn’t want to.

Not right now while he’s feeling so vulnerable.

xxxxxxxx

When Oliver leaves out the back door, not saying much to either of them, Felicity immediately turns to Dig, having settled into her desk chair.

“You know what’s up, don’t you?” Dig says, breaking the silence.

His eyes are concerned but questioning. Not all of that being aimed at her.

“Yeah… I may be a Beta but I can smell too,” Felicity nods.

As a Beta, her sense of smell wasn’t as acute as an Alpha or an Omega’s.

“You didn’t say anything though?”

Felicity can only sigh.

“Your attempts at interrogating Oliver over the past week haven’t worked so what makes you think mine will?”

“Well, he hasn’t said anything so far. If there was a big issue; I think he would have said something by now,” Dig comments, referring to how anything bar casual conversation with Oliver the past week was nearly impossible.

He’d closed back in on himself, was more like how Diggle remembers him first being when he was assigned to the ‘Beta’ as his bodyguard. Dig has learnt better than to pry but he also doesn’t like just leaving Oliver to his thoughts.

Felicity just gives him an ‘are-you-kidding-me?’ look from where she’s booting up her computers.

“Dig, Oliver is obviously seeing an Alpha and he doesn’t want us knowing about it. Or at least he seems to think we wouldn’t notice,” Felicity just shakes her head, wrinkling her nose at the scent she can pick up here and there in Verdant.

Alpha, overpoweringly Alpha.

Oliver had obviously been careless and forgot to sterilize the place before they arrived. He must have been too busy attacking the wall in his irritation to pay the former much thought.

Speaking of the wall, someone would have to clean that up later. Dozens of arrows still imbedded in it as Oliver’s just dropped everything to be out playing the Arrow again.

Or so he was telling them…

“And he doesn’t have a very good two-out-of-three track records with his choice of Alphas in the past either,” Felicity continues, resting her case when Diggle doesn’t say anything.

“Just because he’s an Omega, doesn’t mean he can’t take care of himself,” Dig says, hearing the slight uncertainty in the Beta’s voice, “And you’re counting?”

“Of course. First there was psycho ex-girlfriend Helena and…” Felicity trails off for a moment, not having another example to give, before quickly following up her thought process, “There’s definitely been more though, I’m sure of it. You’ve known him longer than I have. Who knows what goes through Oliver’s mind?”

Dig seems to pay Felicity’s frets little mind but gives her the benefit of the doubt anyway.

“So you think this is another Helena situation?”

“Well, why not? Like you said, his heat last week brushed over rather quickly, this mysterious guy who kidnapped Oliver last week—the two seem to know each other. And now even I can smell an Alpha was here not very long ago. And it wasn’t you either, because you were with me.”

“Those are some broad jumps you’re making, don’t you think?” Dig quirks an eyebrow, leaning against a table across from her as they exchange comments about ‘what the hell Oliver is up to?’

“Well… maybe, but why not? Helena showed up back here once before, why not again?” Felicity argues, the underling hint that not even she believes her own claims.

“Helena’s not the kind of person to wait around. She’s got no reason to be here as her father isn’t; otherwise he probably would have been arrested. Besides, I’ve caught her scent a couple times before. This isn’t her,” Dig affirms, though shutting down Felicity’s argument in the process.

Alpha’s scents might not have come in such a wide variety as Omega’s did—the Omega’s scent having to tell the most important things outside of just being for attraction purposes—but through years of military training Dig had learnt to discern a lot of things from a person’s scent.

The small but distinct differences between one person and another, genders, not just dynamics, whether or not a person was being effected by a long lasting injury or illness.

This—Dig assures himself, straining to find the still lingering scent of Oliver’s Alpha associate—was not Helena.

Too much testosterone even for the average Alpha female, though the same could be said about Oliver as an Omega. So male likely, but Dig had been wrong before. Obviously a mature Alpha too, likely at least Oliver’s age or older, otherwise his scent wouldn’t have been overpowering Oliver’s Beta cover-up so easily.

The list of Alphas Oliver knows is a small one though, even more so the ones he actively associates with. There was him… Detective Lance—that was as the Arrow though— and that was about it for the current ones. There was Walter and Tommy a year back and John can almost feel himself wanting to think… maybe Felicity was right.

“It’s not Helena. Alpha, but more likely a guy,” Dig has to confirm aloud again for himself.

“So, this is the potentially psycho ex-boyfriend?”

“Felicity, we don’t _know_ that.”

“What? I just don’t think it’s fair we’re being kept in the dark here about what Oliver’s up to.” Felicity says, scowling and wheeling back around on her chair to face her computers.

She’s obviously displeased, more so than he is but Diggle’s probably grown a lot more used to this behaviour from Oliver.

“I know, I know. It’s not our place to pry into Oliver’s personal life though.”

That might not have been the best thing to say as Felicity instantly turns back around and raises her voice.

“Not our place to know? Oliver was out there as the Arrow just last week and we have no idea what even happened! People look like they’ve stopped dying but apparently Oliver didn’t kill anyone either. He was right on heat and although I don’t worry about him normally, I _know_ from people I’ve known that the streets are no place for an Omega in heat.

How do we know something didn’t happen to him and he’s trying to cover it up? How do we not know that he didn’t get—”

“Felicity,” Dig cuts in abruptly, knowing where she’s going with her stray thoughts and feeling the need to cut her off before she gets there.

“This is Oliver, we’re talking about,” Dig tries to reassure, “The Oliver who has kicked potentially hundreds of Alpha’s asses, Oliver.”

“Yeah,” Felicity huffs, “the lying Oliver who always keeps secrets from us, Oliver.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Duìbùqǐ” means “I’m sorry” in Chinese, according to the internet. Feel free to correct me if it’s wrong.


	10. The Edge

When Sebastian enters the main office, it’s obvious that  _someone_  isn’t in a good mood.

Not only from the way the doors are all closed to give the impression that nobody’s here but also from the way Slade has just about torn the whole place upside-down. Through to this floor’s hallway where most of the damage was contained at the centre of it.

It’s evident when he finds said Alpha in the office, sitting at the end of the debris, behind the table which seems to be the only thing left standing. Which is including the paintings on the walls, torn apart beyond their minimalist prints which displeases Sebastian the most.

They were expensive, originals hard to come by and no doubt replacing everything would fall to him even if he had nothing to do with the wreckage.

Firstly the pillars though, before the ceiling caves in on them, as both of which have gaping holes in them from which rubble is starting to collect on the floor. Two out of four of the lights on them have managed to be salvaged and escaped with their blubs intact though.

It’s almost amazing they were still standing.

It doesn’t matter yet as Slade’s made up for it with the rest of the lamps in the room he’s left in shambles, being six of them that they’re still some remnants of them left around the from. Those being the one that used to occupy the desk, the two lengthy ones on the back wall, as well as the duo leading out to the foyer—like those on the pillar—and the standing one usually by the sofas.

Said sofas were also overturned with bits of their cushioning ripped out of them like a rabid dog had at them.

 _Or Alpha_ , and Sebastian finds himself slightly cringing inwardly as he approaches the older man who has yet to look up at him.

Slade does though even as he quietly approaches, footsteps silenced by the dishevelled rug. Dark eyes peering over the top of a glass of vodka, no doubt picking up his scent despite how discreet a Beta’s was.

“Woah, what happened? Did a hurricane come through here or something?” Sebastian can’t help but comment snidely.

The Alpha doesn’t respond, barely looking upwards as he just continues doing what he was doing as if nothing has happened, refilling his glass with another portion of alcohol. Which means he’d apparently still remembered to recover at least  _some_  of the drinks before ripping the entire countertop off the minibar, to the left of the room, in whatever tantrum he’s thrown.

Slade wasn’t usually like that, was usually more controlled for someone who still thoroughly intimidated Sebastian.

Shifting from one foot to another, the Beta has to hope it hasn’t been him that’s done something wrong. The Alpha hadn’t made contact for the last few days so he couldn’t be blamed for just letting most of everyone just do whatever.

Everything had come to a halt as of recently that wasn’t directly involving his campaign work as he didn’t want to risk a run in with the hooded crusader.

Right now might not have been the best time to make a visit unannounced, though he’s almost always sure to find Slade here, barely ever leaves, but he’s grown too anxious over the past couple days.

The Vigilante had been off the street for a week now, which just didn’t happen. Even if the reckless Omega was going into heat, the circumstances never changed to get him off the patrol.

Had he done it? Had the Alpha killed the Omega? Eliminated the threat once and for all himself as it seems Slade’s too distrusting of him as of lately because apparently sending Cyrus to utterly annihilate the Omega was a no-no.

Maybe the Alpha had  _other_ uses for The Vigilante once he found out he was an Omega, which Sebastian will admit he would too.

There were less than a hundred thousand male Omegas in Starling City, though the number didn’t seem nearly that  _great_  in a population of nearly three million. Where many Omegas could and would mask their dynamic for the sake of not being constantly harassed.

Where the females were desired for the many offspring they could produce, the males saw their value in how much more versatile they were. The few of them that had survived into the modern day might not have had the durability of a Beta but they were less frail than the females Omegas were.

Oh, and they were rare. So it was most desirable to mate with them in hopes of continuing on their dynamic for the centuries to come, seeing the stunt in both Alphas and Omegas over the past centuries.

It doesn’t matter though as Slade says nothing and Sebastian wonders if he could back out of the room without the Alpha noticing him.

Slade snaps up yet just as the Beta is deciding now would be a good time to leave.

Slade mentally groans when he notices Sebastian looming, not that it wasn’t apparent at first but at the moment he’s more focused on drowning out as much of the outside world as possible. Which right now includes Sebastian, and possibly always should, as if maybe the disobedient shit hadn’t decided ‘let’s kill The Vigilante’ he wouldn’t have ended up in this conflicting situation in the first place.

He’s not in the mood to throttle the Beta right now. If he does he might just kill him seeing the disaster zone he’s made out of his office and right now trying to thoroughly sedate himself with alcohol seems the only way Slade’s not going to continue run rampant.

Obviously Blood should be taking this as his queue to leave as he just ends up looking back down; cradling the bottle he has close to his body.

“What, is it casual Friday or something?” comes the Beta’s sarcastic remark when he  _fails_  to leave.

What is Sebastian shitting him?

Casual Friday his—oh, shit.

He hadn’t gotten changed again since he left Oliver. Trying his best to get Oliver to have an actual conversation beyond them just going off at each other—which kind of ended up happening anyway—meant he had to try and get the Omega comfortable around him.

The easiest way to do that seemed to be to meet the kid on his own territory—or would that make things worse as he was invading Oliver’s space, and he knows how the Omega gets about keeping a respectable distance from him, just in general. Which Verdant seemed the best place for that to ensure they were alone, otherwise he’d be swinging by Oliver’s house.

It wasn’t just Omega one-oh-one that suggested the later was a bad idea, or the worse of the two. Invade an Alpha’s territory you’re asking for a fight, invade an Omega’s ‘nest’ uninvited and all trust is lost. Verdant’s basement is Oliver’s domain as well but it’s not the area he sleeps in so it seems the more acceptable of the two to intrude on.

Oliver’s intruded on his territory before so it’s only fair he can do the same to him.

The next thing was to try and make things civil or at least appear that way as when it comes down to the wire, he doesn’t want to snap Oliver’s neck on sight. Like he thought he might have.

Slade wants to talk, which is weird and unexpected yet a welcoming change from the slow burn of torment, up to this point, he thought the Omega deserved.

So he’d dressed casually, or as casual as one could be expected to when seven days a week you’re keeping up impressions, meaning dressing the part—to impress. That involved suits, ties, jackets—restrictive fabric Slade didn’t usually want to deal with as they barely left you any room to breathe in. Hopefully ditching that attire was a good idea and Oliver found the gesture comforting as well.

If the Omega did or not was another unknown as here Slade is having trashed nearly a whole floor after he’s found out  _what_  he’d done.

He senses Sebastian still hovering, not wanting to delve into those thoughts under the watch of the other anymore than he already has and glances upwards. From where he’s been swirling the liquor in his glass as if downing it would surely soothe his grief.

Maybe before it would have, but not now.

 _Fuck_ , Slade thinks to himself as he watches the Beta shift underneath his glare and his gaze shifts around the room. There’s shit everywhere and it’s amazing that Blood has managed to make his way in here without giving himself away, broken glass or rubble crunching underfoot.

He’s made a mess, which in turn seeing it digs up a thought process he’s rather forget right now.

_That’s how you did it._

“It’s Saturday,” he huffs out, remembering the chide remark the Beta had made.

Wanting, needing anything to steer his mind away from the direction it was rapidly heading in.

_That’s how you nearly fucking killed him._

“Whatever, I don’t care. You’re lucky it’s only me coming by,” the Beta rolls his eyes though it barely cuts through the thick haze quickly settling over Slade’s mind.

 _Yeah_ , if it had been Isabel Rochev coming to ask about The Vigilante—which he’s sure that’s what Sebastian’s hinting at—the female Alpha would be more honed in to how his façade was starting to slip. How—even though he has to hope she doesn’t know Oliver isn’t the Beta everyone believes him to be—as an Alpha he doesn’t want to hurt  _that_  Omega— _his_  Omega.

And only now when he’s tried to do it, really tried to do it. To make that arsehole suffer just like he’s suffered over nearly the last half a dozen years, he just  _can’t_  do it.

Even the act of tearing into Oliver and watching him break down—over something it seems neither of them entirely understand now—pierces Slade in a heart he didn’t know he still had.

A part of him he thought wouldn’t feel for anything but vengeance, consumed by the blackness of the poison that invaded his body, saving him by killing him.

But it aches, and  his weary mind, fatigued from rest even he needs after days without it, races with thoughts that are too powerful to be remain buried.

_His spine would have been a lot easier to break than those pillars were._

“So, what’d you do with him? Did The Vigilante talk?”

Slade knows he didn’t mean to, hadn’t meant to hurt the Omega the way he apparently did. Had he really been that rough? Had he really been too out of it at the time to not notice?

His rut had been immensely strong, the urge to make sure Oliver was okay and ebb his pain away as much as he could, bordering on overpowering.

It was the desire to protect and look after the one who had deemed you worthy but hadn’t quite ever allowed you to do so. Possibly smothering the Omega in the process and letting slip his inhabitations that Oliver had warily asked him to never do in the past.

Those thoughts and more swirled his mind, as the Alpha just hoped they stayed that way and slipping down some metaphorical drain in his head.

“What? You’re not going to say anything, are you?”

When Oliver had went into heat on the boat it had been all about making sure he was okay, that he was still alive, a matter Slade had been so frantic over as he tore through dozens of people to reach him.

This latest time had been no different, only Slade have been slightly more latent towards needing to kill anyone. It would be preferable not to have to do so but it was Oliver’s reaction who was quite different from all those years ago.

Which he still couldn’t get over even if it was days passed.

He’d been quite the same, if not possibly worse than he had back on the freighter.

You think when things like alcohol and sedatives had such a trivial effect on him the most common ‘drug’ of them all would do so as well. Heat pheromones, most powerful aphrodisiac in the world if the Omega wanted them to be.

Apparently not, having a heightened sense of smell that he’d clued into as well, likely from the Mirakuru, made being around Oliver when he came to a struggle.

He smelt so fucking good, better than ever if that was possible.

Oliver would  _not_  have had a scent like that if he wasn’t at least somewhat willing to let him knot. Even if the Omega did it just to put a metaphorical gun to his head that didn’t change the fact that with every breath he could smell the wetness Oliver secreted.

The scent that says he’s virile, in his prime and for the male Omega that period doesn’t last as long as the females. Oliver’s testorone levels have obviously heighted over the years, which would usually be weird in an Omega but at least it proved Oliver wasn’t completely useless.

Oliver wasn’t an Alpha or Beta as he seemed to think he was though, which was proven in his next unseen action that Slade wasn’t expecting.

Oliver had taken his clothes, which he’d forgot to mention back at Verdant as he had bigger things to deal with at that stage—like the Bond—but he did want that suit back.

At first Slade thought he might have kicked his clothes under the bed or y’know ripped them to shreds but when he wakes up with Oliver obviously having slipped away and even his briefs gone.

Yeah, the Omega’s taken them.

Classic Omega behaviour.

Which in-between fretting over his most recent behaviour, trashing an entire floor, and more anxious thoughts from Slade about the past, he’s had time to think about  _that_.

That if their current Bond was any indication, Oliver must have—

“Did you kill him or not?”

 “Shut up, alderman!”

Slade is snapped out of his thoughts abruptly and finds himself hurtling his still half-full glass at the Beta for his words.

“Jesus!”

Sebastian cusses and side-steps rather last minute out of the way of his throw, flailing somewhat frantically. Glass still ending up shattering onto him as the glass collides with the pillar just left of him.

It was a waste of liquor but at least Slade still had the bottle yet he was feeling the need to peg that at the other as well as he just continued talking.

“What is your problem? I haven’t done anything!”

“You. You’re my problem right now as you won’t shut up,” Slade snaps, obviously wanting to be alone but the Beta couldn’t take the hint right now.

“Well, excuse me for the lack of communication around here.”

Slade just huffs, contemplating how much of an issue Blood was going to make himself to be.

Obviously not a latent one.

“I just want to know if  _our_  issue has been dealt with.”

“You’re the only one that’s making The Vigilante out to be a problem.”

Cool, Slade has to play it cool.

Sebastian  _can’t_  know, Mrs. Rochev already knows too much and he’s starting to regret the information he’s dealt both of them. Each of them have a separate piece of the puzzle now; Blood the dynamic issue and Rochev the Arrow’s identity. Neither of them should talk but the two need to be kept apart.

Things have just gotten so much unintentionally harder in Slade’s want to  _not_  completely crush Oliver’s soul.

“Well, he is! He killed The Count set up to get rid of him and if he decides to keep going on that way, we can’t mass produce the serum fast enough or find enough people to survive it to keep up with how fast he’s going to start killing them all.”

“Then don’t.”

“Wait, what?”

“Focus on your campaign and stop leaving a trail of bodies through the streets,” Slade affirms.

Sebastian just blinks, looking the Alpha up and down like he’s had way too much to drink.

“What do you want me to do? Just drop off the serum experimentation?”

“Yes.”

“Are you out of your mind?” the Beta half-shouts.

Rubbing his fingers into his temples Slade has to control his urge to go and smack Sebastian silly for questioning his judgement.

“No, now you’ll do as I say.”

“B-But, that makes no sense?!”

“Yes, it does!” Slade roars, slamming his palms down on the tabletop and getting to his feet.

The wood digs into his hands, splintering upwards from the force but it isn’t enough to pierce his iron hide-like skin. The desk noticeably groans but the Alpha ignores its now fraying state in favour of stalking towards Sebastian, who noticeably tries to back away from him.

“You leave any more bodies out in the open like you are and we’ll have more than just The Vigilante sniffing around—”

“Why didn’t you kill him then?” Sebastian cuts in even as the Alpha looms over him.

Slade doesn’t take his interruption well though as the back of the Beta’s head is quickly shoved into the pillar he’s backed up into, tie fisted up around his neck.

“Shut up!” Slade shouts, ending with a growl as his Alpha instinct was reminding him all too much of how little he liked being opposed.

Even in his irritation he tries to makes sure to keep his grasp lax around the Beta’s neck to prevent accidently strangling him.

“The Vigilante has his worth,” Slade blurts out, immediately regretting what he’s said.

That was  _not_  the best excuse for him wanting to keep Oliver alive and he has to hope Sebastian does not look too deep into that statement.

“I see… so you’re keeping him to—”

Slade snarls, yanking the Beta up by his tie so he’s no longer touching the ground, effortlessly.

How dare he insinuate such a thing about  _his_  Omega.

He should kill him; he should kill that Beta right now and no one would ever know any better. Take one more increasing problem off his list. Just hang him by his tie and dispose of him somewhere no one will find.

“Alright…” Sebastian wheezes under Slade’s grip, eyes fearful under the Alpha’s.

“You keep him, forget I said anything. Never said I wanted him.”

The Beta coughs in between trying to breathe and Slade deems his response satisfying enough. Though his excuse and the way it was interpreted took a direction the Alpha didn’t expect, best to just go with that as Sebastian seems to have gotten the picture, colour draining from his face.

“Exactly. Now you leave him alone, understood?”

“Okay…” Sebastian splutters, hands clawing up around the Alpha’s vice-like grip.

Slade still remains low and threatening overhead however, not seeming to like his answer.

“Are we understood?”

“Yes. Understood.”

With that Slade lets Sebastian drop, the Beta immediately scuffling away from him though knowing better than to desert his presence until dismissed. He walks lazily back over to his desk, content he’s been understood and that Blood knows he can also add refurbishing this place onto his to-do list.

“Good. Leave the matter of the serum reproduction to Mrs. Rochev. Once she gets access to the larger resources we will need then you can continue on. Until then, don’t screw up.”

Turning his back on the Beta, Slade’s not surprised when he hears Sebastian slink out. Which at least solved him for the moment and hopefully Oliver would get off his back about the ‘people dying’ thing that keeps coming up in their conversations.

Oliver…

He knows what he has to do; he has to see  _him_  even if it kills him. Has to warn him and keep him away from Sebastian and Isabel if he is yet to dispose of the both of them.

But first, the circumstances under which they saw one another had to change.

xxxxxxxx

The days trudged by slowly for Oliver after his latest encounter with Slade.

Christmas, New Year’s Eve and then the New Year itself without any serious dilemmas popping up. The streets remaining surprisingly body-free, no more run ins with super soldiers and only the most menial activity seeming to be happening on the crime front.

None of which necessarily needed to involve the Arrow as the phone he’d given officer Lance remained silent as the winter season started to roll around. Even if it didn’t start snowing in the city, only sometimes dropping to below freezing during the nights. The nights grew longer but even then Oliver wasn’t staying out for as long as he usually was, freezing his ass off in plain leather.

It was if even crime had taken a vacation over the holidays and most of his evenings could now reluctantly be spent inside. Where he should be, or was at least expected to be, because although they weren’t hosting a large gathering this year, Moira still expected the presence of her children that she quote “hardly ever saw anymore”.

Roy spent a lot of the time distracting Thea, which in turn meant the Beta spent less time prying into the Arrow, but that also meant Moira mainly kept eyes on him when the two ducked upstairs. The days off he had from Queen Consolidated also meant that wasn’t an excuse when it came to ducking out to do Arrow business and seeing as he paid Dig and Felicity’s pay check, using his friends as an excuse to get away from his mother would probably just look inappropriate.

Seeing as activity had died down on the vigilante front, Felicity had been occupying most of her free time in Central City. Barry Allen was still in a coma from the lightning strike he’d been hit by. The weeks passed and Oliver was starting to think the Beta might not ever come out of it but of course he doesn’t let Felicity know that.

Can’t blame her for getting away either as the nights he spends wrestled away from his mom or turned in early from lack of chaos on the streets were spent keeping up other necessary appearances.

Christmas get-togethers he was invited to—some professional, others just an excuse to have an expensive piss-up—either way he could pull Diggle along to all of them. Only ending up looking like a sceptic for his life, which was fine seeing as the hate his mother’s name still warranted.

Not necessarily out of wholesome appearances but also out of a want to support his campaign, Sebastian Blood’s speeches and events had also become a bi-weekly or so thing for him to attend.

The Beta’s candidacy for mayor was in full swing and so far running unopposed, and even if in the endgame it meant nothing, his support should warrant well in the eyes of the city’s folk. Get their support behind the Beta, because while Sebastian might not have the resources alone to change the city, he had the charisma and the drive to do so.

Almost like Oliver did as the Arrow, though to each their own.

And yet… even with the peace continuing over and into the new year, he can’t help but feel that things aren’t right. Like it’s merely the calm before the storm yet only he can smell the rain water coming.

But maybe that’s just because he’s still on edge about the whole Slade situation.

The bodies—or really the killings—seem to have completely stopped, halted now for over a month. Which Oliver can attribute some of the so-called peace to, no longer having to worry about the Mirakuru being out on the streets but it’s obvious Slade hasn’t just packed up and left either.

Even without seeing the Alpha he knows that, like it’s engraved into his very mind and he can feel the strain of the Bond though know it’s not suffering over great distances.

He still wakes up with Slade’s scent, musky and strong as ever, clinging to the insides of his nose. Like he awakens expecting the Alpha to be there though isn’t sure what he’d do if the man was.

They haven’t spoken since that last encounter in Verdant, nor does it look like Slade’s made any attempt to make contact. To be fair, neither has he and when he’s out on the streets at nights, he’s almost wary of Slade perhaps popping up behind him. Or maybe that’s him being hopeful?

Well, he intended to keep him away with the Bond, put him right back where he belongs and respect one’s Omega’s wishes, and it looks like he’s done it.

What if he doesn’t want that though? Or at least, not anymore.

What if he doesn’t know what he wants in this case scenario?

This wasn’t the kind of situation where flowers and kisses where likely to be taken as a no-excuses, won’t-do-it-again, type of apology. Not that Oliver would ever attempt to seek forgiveness in such a way with an Alpha, Jesus, that’s like trying to court a lion with the way of the lamb.

This was the kind of situation where years had passed since the incident—the misunderstanding—without an apology or any form of communication happening. Partially because of the you know, ‘I thought you were dead’ issue that looks like it may have cropped up for the both of them.

Slade hadn’t made himself known after he’d came back from the dead though. Not necessarily on the island, as it’s obvious neither of them knows the other’s side about what events transpired there, about the suffering they’d both likely endured.

He came back, he made himself known. And so too could have Slade.

To meet again under such circumstances, the miraculous ‘you’re alive’ would have been far more preference—albeit still awkward and unexpected—to the ‘why are you in my city and what are you doing?’ that just came with the criminal profile whenever the Arrow was hunting down suspects and turning over bodies.

Speaking of the bodies, why had Slade suddenly stopped there?

Or maybe he hadn’t and had just become more discreet with disposing of them. It would seem weird of the Alpha to go to all that trouble though so Oliver’s assuming he’s legitimately halted things there.

Did Slade seriously drop off things there just so he could get a conversation out of him, now all those weeks ago?

Whatever, he’s not complaining and is appreciative of the lack of murdered innocents but the Alpha has still not shown himself again since Verdant.

Oliver wonders if maybe he’s supposed to go to him. Maybe he’s supposed to take the initiative though wouldn’t that be the same as him going and asking for forgiveness?

What has he done though? What does he have to apologize for?

The stabbing Slade in the head, the possible sexual coercion—though that’s menial in his books—the possible Bonding coercion—though that obviously wasn’t just one-sided—and maybe just him being a dick?

Maybe he is slightly at fault here as well, but as far as he’s concerned Slade’s done worse than he has.

 _But he tried to apologize_ , a small part of him would always whisper.

A small, usually insignificant, likely Omegan part of him that had been popping up more and more as of lately.

 _He did not_ , Oliver found himself having to shoot back and tell himself more often.

Slade did not come to apologize, didn’t even try to.

He came to give him a lecture and Oliver let slip about the scar, then it all fell apart. Slade couldn’t handle the pressure, just like the Alpha always didn’t seem to be able to handle that sort of emotional weightiness—like with Shado’s death—and he nicked off.

That’s the end of it.

Slade had weird ways of apologizing though, just like how on the boat…

_No, no, no!_

Sweep that thought process under the rug, can’t let Slade hurt him again.

Can’t be vulnerable.

Only he is, and Oliver’s becoming increasingly aware of it over the passing days when his biology keeps stabbing him in the back.

Or rather, his stomach.

As he’s had an all too familiar prickle under his skin since yesterday and now that it’s, thankfully, nearing the weekend, his body doesn’t look like it wants to wait any longer until it collapses in on itself.

Evidently when Oliver wakes up hard, sticky, past midnight and running to the bathroom.

Dropping in front of the mirror and peeling his sweat-stained clothes off, knowing this routine all too well.

It was doubtful he’d make it to Verdant feeling like this nor did he really want to, body aching.

Fuck, it had only been five and a bit weeks since he’d last went into heat though. Barely over twenty-eight days. The average Omega might have went that often but not the males. Not that he really knows as the few others he’s met of his gender and dynamic, he’s never disclosed those facts about himself or asked how often their biology decided it wanted a knot.

He didn’t! He did not go monthly though.

Never did, never had. Not that having the suppressants in his system was an accurate representation of what his body was like. Or when he didn’t, he was stuck on an island and often malnourished so his body wouldn’t want to exert itself any earlier than possible.

This was what Oliver considered exertion though and not the physical kind.

Thirty days, really…?

Could the Bond speed up how frequently his heats were going to come on? It sounds plausible, although how much he despises the idea. He’s never heard of the concept, not that he paid much attention in biology either.

He knows heats induced by one’s Alpha, as well, don’t oblige by how often or necessarily intense an Omega’s normal ones are. Could Slade be causing him to react this way?

The hell if he knew and if the Alpha was he might just strangle him.

Yet that made no sense!

He hadn’t seen Slade for ages and wasn’t it usually the Alpha’s pheromones could stimulate a semi-natural heat if they flooded their Omega with enough of them orally and—

_No, no, no!_

Oliver glares at himself in the mirror, knowing this _doesn’t_  have to be a heat.

It doesn’t have to be…

Though when he takes in how dark his nipples are, how rigid his cock is, hard-pressed against his stomach, how slick glides out from between his thighs and begs him  _to do something!_

Yeah, it’s a heat. It’s a heat all right.

Or at least something that damn well resembles one.

Whether it truly is or isn’t was beyond Oliver to know but he knows what he has to do.

Flicking on the shower faucet, he jumps underneath it even when it begins just above freezing, like outside was. He pants, the cold needles of water on his back stinging yet helping to cut through the haze of his mind. His body remains hot and alive though, tendons tight and stomach wound up in knots.

It’s hard, but he drops his head against the wall and resists the urge to put his hands over himself. ‘Don’t focus on it, can’t focus on it, even as Oliver’s lowering himself onto the floor, pulling the loofa off from around the tap handle as he goes. He’ll just clean himself up, get dressed, leave a note for his family and get the hell out of the house.

He can’t make Verdant though, can’t risk driving like this even with the barren streets, lest he ends up hurting someone with how shitty his coordination was starting to feel.

He could call Dig though, Dig would understand and come get him even though this was not an hour most people would like being harassed at.

No, he should call…

His stomach cramps sharply, as if on queue, at the thought of the Alpha.

Slade…

The Alpha wasn’t here though, Oliver couldn’t exactly get him here either as it wasn’t liked they’d exchanged phone numbers or anything.

Cock twitching, he drops the sponge from where he’s been soaping it up in need of something to distract himself with. Distract himself from the agony that was starting to consume his every movement and his own stupidity of locking himself into the scenario where only a single Alpha will be able to soothe that for him.

He won’t take to anyone else.

Argh, shit, and he’s gone and pushed the Alpha away.

Maybe he should have apologized earlier because now he’s on his own. Which he definitely should have thought about that sooner, the matter of the Bond, but he should have still had two or three months left to worry about that and his heat.

It doesn’t matter now as Oliver slips away from under the spray of water, legs parted and hand sloping down his thigh. The urge to just curl in on himself and whimper is there, beg for a release he can’t give himself. Yet he refrains from doing so knowing better, always knowing better.

He’s not that pathetic yet.

Knowing his body better than anyone, albeit how much he’s denied his Omega biology should mean he can handle this by himself.

For an Alpha or a Beta male their primary way of deriving pleasure might have been from their dick but not a male Omega. He knows all his most intrinsic pleasure points are inside himself.

And that’s why rather than fisting up his hard dick, he drops his fingers lower. Curling and unfurling until his fingers are just outside himself. Gathering the wetness he secrets and body growing tense in anticipation.

Inclining, inviting, and Oliver can’t quite watch himself do it.

He turns his head away, staring at the white tiling of the shower even as his mind wanders.

How long was this going to last? It would be hours, ugh.

It would just be so much easier if…

Darting his hand back from his perineum, he brings it in front of himself so he can look at it.

There’s slick covering his digits, not as much as he’s used to or as much as there would be if he was going to be accommodating a knot but enough to convince him this wasn’t going to be thoroughly painful.

He’s done it before, just not that often.

Turning away again, Oliver lets his fingers trail back naturally to where they’re likely to go not matter what.

He pushes lightly, fingers slick and thin.

Middle finger with the pressure, the rest of his fingers spread out so he can catch the underneath of his cock when he jerks his digits upwards. Lightly, he rubs around the outer ring of muscle there, milking as much fluid out of himself as possible as he steadies his breathing.

Or at he least tries to, but his breath only catches and grows faster in his throat the longer he seems to  _do nothing_.

Oh God, he wants…

His head drops low, chin against his chest and he pushes a finger inside him, thoughts of the Alpha unexpectedly filling his brain.

His Alpha…

It’s painful at first, pushing inside of himself but he lets the thoughts of Slade guide him. Allows himself to weaken and give in to what he can no longer deny himself.

Slade’s hands on his waist, his face, even his neck. Like the first time they met and the Alpha threatened to kill him. All Alpha dominance and with no room for feelings or the emotions he’s not sure he can deny any longer.

Neither should Slade as—fuck—when he has the Alpha’s chest on top of him it’s like nothing matters anymore. It’s like friend or foe, good or bad, it doesn’t matter as it’s just Slade… the only damn Alpha he’s deemed worthy, really worthy, and that was not something to be taken lightly.

Slade’s dick though, that was the worst. It was the worst.

Slade…

_Slade…_

Just Slade.

Fucking Slade.

And he’s fucking himself silly with just a single finger, wedged up deep inside of him when he stops.

Or rather Oliver’s stopped.

It’s not the lack of the water beating down between his legs or the hand coiled around his free wrist that stops him though.

It’s the voice.

“You’re awfully noisy, y’know?”


	11. Storm Before The Calm

Oliver wearily peeks both eyes open at the voice that’s just broken him out of his lust-induced state. He knows that voice, it makes him tense, chest tightening as he can sense the Alpha dominance in it and from the heady scent without even having to look.

Even though a jolt of panic goes through him it still takes Oliver longer than he’d expect to get his shit together, but then again he is fatigued by heat. Well that’s what he gets for not sucking it up and obviously not taking the bang more often though the idea of taking it up the ass as his nature would suggest has come to intimidate him more than anything.

He doesn’t want an Alpha, doesn’t want anyone of the sort near him. Not now, not ever. Alphas can’t be trusted, especially not around Omegas in heat. Screw his parentage and biology for making him this way!

Despite Oliver’s internal panic his vision takes a moment to settle, light hitting his eyes and having had them squeezed shut for a while. Albeit anxious his mind is too slow and sluggish for him to give a threat much thought when really at the forefront of his mind is just sex, avoiding said sex, the pain that could be reduced by said sex.

_Wow, I feel like crap._

He’s got stitches tearing up the insides of his ribcage, most of his aches and pains only just now seemed to be becoming noticeable, once he’s been re-grounded and brought down off cloud nine. The worst of it is still centred in his stomach though, twisting sharply as his body’s natural response to not getting a knot and also possibly the suppressants throwing his bodily system off balance.

Which unfortunately no amount of masturbation seemed liked it would relieve.

He groans, half-pushing himself back up into a seating position, his body having started to slip down and away from the wall corner of the shower he’s retreated into. He’s using only his legs to half-haphazardly do so as one of his hands is still preoccupied, finger stretching open his insides in an effort to soothe that ache within him.

Well, it was and right now he wants to go back to doing just that, leaving… everything where it was.

His other hand, Oliver realizes, is still ensnared in front of him as the Omega goes to use it in an attempt to  help alleviate himself up with but it doesn’t seem to want to move. Trapped in front of him firmly.

He stops squinting upwards and glances in front of him meeting Slade’s gaze, the Alpha currently leaning over into the shower.

“Slade…?”

What… the hell?

He blinks a couple times, waiting for his vision to truly settle and allow him to take in his surroundings.

Judging from the spacious shower, the porcelain tiling of the walls and floor and the failed attempt he’s made at washing himself he’s made in favour of… yeah, he’s still in his house. Unlike Oliver might have originally thought as when he glances back over towards where the shower door usually is. Slade’s still there and he’s thankfully at least not been snuffed out and abducted like the last time.

Unfortunately the Alpha doesn’t make him any less uptight about him being in the presence of than any other Alpha would, if anything, Slade makes him more so. Because at least with anyone else Oliver would at least think he stood a chance against… Oliver quickly enough cuts off that thought process releasing he’s getting himself worked up over nothing, well not nothing—but what the hell Slade?

Slade’s still got his right hand in one of his own, easily maintaining it there as the Omega can only gawk back at the other. Staring as if the longer he looks the more likely it would be that the Alpha would leave and just turn out to be another hallucination.

Like he’d thought Slade had been the first time they’d encountered one another, all those nights ago in the streets of the Glades.

“Hey,” Slade comes out with smoothly and somewhat smugly, lips quirking upwards as he looks somewhat pleased with himself.

He’s dressed down again, not in the dapper suits that Oliver had come to think common occurrence of the Alpha but also had him looking like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Far more predatory than the common city Alphas he was used to, those that had seemed to have lost all their instinctive wits about them and whose bloodlines would likely become more Betas than anything else in the decades to come.

Even in denim and a singlet though, Slade still manages to look the part of intimidating as Oliver can hear his heart speed up in his ears at the deep octave of the Alpha’s voice. Feel his blood turn to ice like the surface of his skin is starting to feel, shivering, not just from the beads of water still clinging to him which he’s only just starting to notice.

“You look like you could use some help.”

It takes Oliver a moment or two to fully register what is going on, mind still hazy, before he snaps up and tries to conceal his modesty as best he can.

“Slade!”

Oliver practically jumps out of his skin realising the older man still has eyes—well an eye—on him and potentially has the entire time.

Shit, was I thinking about him aloud?

He immediately begins to squirm and reel backwards, deciding he doesn’t like this at all. Away from Slade as the Alpha has just apparently so unceremoniously invaded his house, even his bathroom, and Oliver’s just sitting there with his modesty exposed. Which he had some standards over, even if this wasn’t the first time Slade had gotten him naked—woah, woah, seen him naked.

Even though he can still feel the older man’s eyes on him seemingly everywhere, Oliver still pulls his knees up to his chest and quickly wrenches the only hand he’s got right now out from underneath him—as Slade doesn’t seem to want to let the other one go—causing him to wince at how quickly he does the motion.

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Slade settle down cross-legged not even a metre from him before the edge of the shower, which he can’t really bring himself to care about as he hurriedly tries to conceal himself. Given the awkward angling the Alpha had corned him on and the fact that Slade could just move at any moment and by all means do whatever he wanted it meant it was quite possibly a half-assed mission but one Oliver was going to carry out regardless.

He wasn’t even sure he could be so embarrassed out being seen naked anymore—because what he has was certainly appreciable—but obviously his unease with Alphas he deemed possibly stronger than himself still stood. Even with his disposition and the fact that he can now say he’s done an Alpha and not gotten himself screwed in the process. Managed to exude dominance over the dynamic that was so famous for their own.

When he deems himself no longer entirely exposed, checking himself up and down to make sure he was doing his best to hide… what he actually cared about—by obtaining a sort of half-foetal position—Oliver looks up and meets Slade’s gaze again.

He hopes he looks as defiant as he feels right now because this was one of the worst seemingly possible situations he could think of for the Alpha to decide to show up in. Which the past had indeed proven, Slade’s timing was the complete opposite of impeccable.

Slade might have also caught him thinking about him, which is bad enough for Oliver to do just in general. The subject a touchy one and Oliver feeling like his stance on the Slade situation was ever changing. From wanting the Alpha gone, to not being sure if he could really stop the other, to the rarer moments and feelings returning to him he’s sure stemmed from years ago where he could think he might actually care for the other.

Beyond just a ‘I-care-about-you-trying-to-destroy-my-city-and-ruin-my-life’ standpoint. It was like emotions from another life come back to haunt him and with it he somewhat relished not being able to hate Slade anymore.

All the latter seemed to do was eat away at him and it relieved some of his stress to think Slade and he might have called it a mutable non-verbal truce. At least for now once he finally managed to one-up the Alpha.

Granted it was annoying enough to get to this seeming point, having had to go to his backup plan to put the Alpha back in line but then after that it looks like Slade handled things on his end from there. Got the picture, though in a harsher manner than Oliver would have originally anticipated.

He’s not bothered by the ‘you-nearly-killed-me’ thing anymore. It was stupid of him to be caught out in such a situation in the first place and the least he could have done was sat out looking for Slade after he’d ran off on the island. Not been an idiot instead like he had.

It was stupid, so stupid of him. Like he was just expecting an Alpha to do nothing around an Omega near on heat, regardless of how much restraint they had that might have that may have been setting the bar too high.

Which he should have known better of when in the past most Alphas had been anything but admirable around him in heat. Yet Slade, for the most part, had been and it seemed selfish of him not to go out and look for the Alpha, not when he would have preferred die in the place of Shado whom the Alpha had seemed so distraught over.

Obviously that was stupid as he couldn’t gauge at the time how much of himself Slade was or how out of it he might have been.

Especially when Sara had later told him that Slade—whom she’d went to fetch to help save his hide—had been readying a leftover missile launcher from Fyers’s to sink the boat, from the looks of it. The Alpha had apparently stopped at Sara’s mention of Ivo having had him, snapped up, sword at the ready and hurried readily past Sara towards the boat.

That sort of loyalty, being wasted on his sorry ass, should or could have almost indefinitely told him that Slade was one of the only Alphas he could truly trust, or maybe even ever had. As it might have just been for survival purposes at first but Slade had come through more times in the past than Oliver would have expected a normal Alpha to.

Which he shouldn’t have had to hope for the former, but just expect it, apparently in this day and age you did though, as Alphas would still just force themselves onto unwilling Omegas. The fact that the last time on the island, when it came down to the wire and possibly mattered most in that moment, Oliver banking on Slade’s restraint and having had that fail, no longer bothers him.

Yeah, he would have preferred—or so he’d like to think—being left on his own to nurse his wounds and sulk in his sorrows but a part of him always did and always would desire the relief that could only be brought on by an Alpha’s knot. Or maybe that part of him just wanted the sex, something he would usually never blink at the opportunity of if it was with anyone other than an Alpha.

It never helped either that in spite of how much Slade seemed to put him through the wringer in what he would deem the best way to ‘train’ him, the Alpha was surprisingly reasonable and, dare he say, nice. At least compared to most other Alphas he’d encountered on the island and Oliver didn’t have to just rely on himself, in the bi-monthly occurrence when his heat came around, to not want the sex when Slade was around.

Because do not get him wrong, the prospect of sex was still thrilling, maybe a little less so than his playboy days, but only when it was accompanied by the assurance that he wasn’t going to get pregnant or Bonded to someone he had no interest in. Granted the later apparently still came down to a ‘science’, he would much not rather take than risk. Hence one of the reasons he might not be considered completely monogamous.

Don’t get him wrong, there are plenty of other reasons he’d gone off and slept with multiple Omegas and Betas at once. It was fun, it was daring, experimental, minimal commitment and best of all it was usually risk free for him. Seeing as Bonding was a monogamous act, albeit there’s close to zero chance of it happening with what Oliver would consider his usual partners, he was pretty much untouchable by Alphas, or at least undesirable, as long as he kept that sort of routine up.

Possibly the greatest thing about it though, it was a complete “screw you” to his father. Maybe would have eventually given his father the incentive to not try and court him off because such a ‘disobedient’ Omega was worth nothing to an Alpha if they couldn’t Bond them or get offspring from them. Or at least that was how he’d be seen in courtships involving some form of marital wealth, meaning an Alpha wasn’t going to get anything from him!

Of course that plan didn’t exactly plan or work the way Oliver had expected all those years ago. It was in of his… attempts to be defiant, involving a Beta that he’d met up with several times dating Laurel, that things backfired on him and he inavertedly pulled down the guillotine on himself. It had been a chance to save himself or damn himself and it turned out to be the later.

Oliver barely remembers the young Beta’s name anymore, is sure he only remembers her face too because of the look—the almost distraught—that crossed it when the girl had told him she was pregnant. Apparently it was his, she was convinced so—or at least she likely didn’t seem to play the dating ‘game’ the way he did at the time.  Which meant the source of her pregnancy could have only come from him…

Oliver had to practically step out of the room after he had been told that.

Like what the fuck? Sure he didn’t wear a condom but that’s no excuse for anyone else to drop of their contraceptive. Why couldn’t she just… get rid of it, don’t keep it, shit, he couldn’t handle that sort of a responsibility, were among the many things to have been going through his head. He only had sex with her like twice. It was bad, so bad—wait, wait.

The conclusion didn’t dawn on him immediately but… he was an Omega. He couldn’t get anyone pregnant. Just like an Alpha female couldn’t bear children, they were both practically sterile in those regards. This, this could be good, Oliver had told himself over eight years aback when he was finally certain he’d found a way to get out from underneath his father’s agenda.

The idea that he had to be properly courted off, just like his mother had apparently been, and even openly showing he would associate with multiple women at once didn’t seem to put a stop to that agenda though. Barely seemed to faze Robert.

But getting a girl pregnant… that was entirely different. Sure, that implication likely meant something was horribly wrong with him and he wasn’t one-hundred-percent Omega. Stuck in some weird genetics crossroads between Omega and Beta, or was it Omega and Alpha?

Or at least that’s what Oliver thought when he smugly decided to drop the news on his father.

It had been a flawless plan in his eyes, or at least it seemed that way to his younger and more naïve self.

That the implication that an Omega could even get anyone else pregnant, well they obviously weren’t what they were thought to be and most definitely not courtship material. Not that it bothered Oliver, the implication that something might have been freakishly wrong with him upon learning the information the young Beta’s bombshell had dropped on him.

It didn’t matter though, as his father couldn’t possible even think about courting him off after he told him he got a girl pregnant. Or so he thought. That was possibly one of the biggest mistakes on his part, being so stupid and going to his father in all his stupid glory in possibly the biggest act of defiance he’d ever committed. Attempted or otherwise.

xxxxxxxx

_It’s early evening when his father gets home, another day that Oliver’s spent wagging school getting off-his-face blind. Until his world was turned upside and he feels like the sobriety has been knocked back into him._

_What’s-her-face claims he got her pregnant which meant his last couple hours had been spent alcohol-free, fretting over what the hell he was supposed to do, how something like that could happen and what he was supposed to do about it._

_All of that agonizing had just been amplified when Laurel decided to swing by unannounced._

_She was his girlfriend and all but right now he had to handle keeping another girl a secret from her, so he didn’t want her anywhere near him lest he blurt it out in a moment of stupidity. He’d sent her away, hoping his reasoning that he wasn’t feeling well—which he certainly as hell wasn’t right now—was sincere enough and she believed him._

_Didn’t see through his deceit when being that way inclined—what some might call deceitful—was how he ended up in this mess in the first place. The only bright side, which possibly wouldn’t be considered an upside by most, was that this would no doubt displease his father._

_His stupid father that was still so unyielding in thinking he needed to be courted off—no did need to be—no matter how much Oliver thinks he’s already delayed the process since he turned eighteen and a proper courtship was more widely allowable._

_Ever since his father found out he wasn’t a Beta like everyone just presumed, he’d seem to insist that it wasn’t acceptable for people to know his true dynamic. Which he wasn’t going to argue against as he still found it equally shunning and off-putting. Like at any moment someone like Tommy or just any of the guys for that matter would turn around and jump him._

_Which made things awkward when every couple months Oliver had to unfortunately turn down the parties and clubbing he really wished he could attend but couldn’t because around about that time he’d be crippled by a biological need that decided to creep up on him way too late in life._

_It was more intimidating though to fret over what people like his best friend since practically forever might think of him. If he wasn’t a Beta and was in fact more closely related to the Omegas that they’d chide and snark over like they were just prizes to be won and discarded once they were done with._

_In fact, it was hard to stop doing that, acting like he always had when really he’d hate for anyone like Tommy to look at him the same. Was what he feared even._

_It seemed easier to continue on the way he always had though, not act like anything was wrong or different. Because he was still the same person, albeit felt slightly more of a bitch now that he knew he kind of was one. Hence, Oliver’s never argued against his father’s decision to want to hide his dynamic, but that—the reasoning behind that—tied into the second thing his father was so rigid and moving in._

_Possibly the worst of the two._

_The reason nobody was allowed to know he was an Omega was because apparently it wasn’t appropriate unless he was properly courted off or at least engaged to be so. That way no one else could possibly have at it and in his father’s words, “I won’t have to worry about you anymore”._

_What a load of shit. A total lie and even if it wasn’t, which he wouldn’t agree to it not being one, he could take care of himself. He didn’t need an Alpha or anyone like that to protect him like his father seemed to think he did. The Alpha seemed to treat him as if he was more frail than his sister. His sister. His twelve-year-old sister whom apparently because she was an Alpha that made her automatically better off than he was._

_Not the fragile Omega that Robert believed him to be and would apparently need an Alpha to protect him if he was to be right in life._

_He’d show him, he’d show his father, Oliver vowed to himself as he approached his father’s study. Almost giddy with himself that a situation that had started off so horribly, the revelation that he’d unintentionally gotten a girl pregnant—which shouldn’t be able to happen in the first place—had turned around in his mind that this could be exactly what he needed to get his father to abandon the idea of courting him off._

_Oliver hesitates before the door to his father’s study, pondering whether this was such a good idea for him to show such defiance towards his father like this. Again._

_That moment is only temporary though before Oliver decides stuff it, twisting open the door knob. This might be the only chance at getting his father off his back for good he gets and he does not want to spend the rest of his life with some Alpha either._

_He opens the door, pushing it inwards and all Oliver wants to do is forget the rest of what happens after that._

xxxxxxxx

Oliver jerks himself out of his remembrance before he can get too caught up in that memory. Feeling the sting across his cheek almost instinctively and wanting to reach up to soothe it like he had done all those years ago.

His father had slapped him, backhanded him even at the idea that he’d gotten a girl pregnant, something he himself wanted to insist on was true.

Wanted to believe in because it seemed like the only hope he had at that stage, having managing to constantly put off his father arranging meetings with suitors and what have you, by making a fool out of himself and trying as hard as possible to be everything an Alpha wouldn’t expect of an Omega.

That way no one could possibly want him even if his father did try and court him of.

He was so stupid.

His father had smacked him but it wasn’t so much for his insolence at constantly implying he was not going to allow himself to be courted off—even though he could still choose whether or not he accepted the Alpha—but for his stupidity in that moment in time.

It wasn’t even the idiocy of constantly crossing the line with his father that seemed to fire the Alpha up, or that Oliver had practically admitted to sleeping with more than one person at once—which his father no doubt already knew that he would do—but that he had so easily and obliviously fallen into the Beta’s trap.

He couldn’t get a girl pregnant, of course he knew that.

He just hoped that what the Beta girl had said to be true, that what was the product of little more than a one night stand could be the key to his metaphorical freedom. It wasn’t, because of course she’d been lying, and it took a backhanding from his father to make him think otherwise. Break him out of that trance even though at the time he’d been horrified that his father would hit him.

That was followed up by the mostly awkward embrace Robert pulled him into, pulling him into a hug as his younger self struggled with the mental blow the Alpha’s words had dealt him that hurt just as much as the slap did. He’d been lied to, of course, she just wanted the money. She just wanted Beta Oliver Queen’s fortune that so many socialites had seemed to fish for in the past and hang off his arm trying to get at.

Only that time he’d believed it, fell for it so hard and heavy because it was exactly what he wanted to believe in. It was almost like that Beta had known exactly what to say to him to push his buttons in every which right way.

And as he stood their sobbing all those years ago under the weight of that revelation and his own existential horror he seemed to be staring down of entrapment with an Alpha, his father tried to comfort him.

In the worst possibly seeming way.

“It’s okay,” his father would say.

“This wouldn’t happen if you had an Alpha. It’s an Alpha’s duty to protect their Omega. Right now I’m protecting you, I’m looking out for you, even if you don’t understand it that way. But I can’t always do that, I won’t always be around to. I need to know that you’re safe and the only way I can insure that is to find you a suitable Alpha. An Alpha who will insure you’re not like this anymore and that you’ll be better off with.

Preferably an Alpha from a long line of Alphas. No Beta dilution…”

That’s literally what his father went on about when he was sobbing over trying to avoid the former. Well, he hasn’t, avoiding anything at this rate. No at this rate it’s the absolute disaster he’s always anticipated and feared now that possibly the most dangerous Alpha he knows has decided this is the appropriate time for him to show up again, as if on cue.

Slade was one of those Alphas… he’d always known it, early on from when they’d first encountered one another. It wasn’t something Oliver always claimed to be instinctively in sync with—his Omegan nature—but his nose tipped him off quite quickly to Slade—what he was—early on and it made being around him all the more intimidating.

Apex Alpha.

Supposedly initially named as such in the military fields, the term gravitated into regular society as a meaning for Alphas that never diluted to become Betas. Never diluted to produce Betas as the Alphas had been scientifically proven to have done. Alphas had become Betas and hence why the original Omega-Alpha courtships were so sought after in the modern day. Minimise the risk of Alpha’s lines petering out into Betas and put Omegas back to the more fertile dynamic.

Slade was as Alpha as Alpha got, and that thoroughly intimidated him.

The light pressure on his wrist quickly brings Oliver back to reality along with looking at Slade’s stupid face.

“You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Don’t touch me, Slade,” Oliver tries to hiss back but it comes out as a weak attempt at best.

Still annoyed and worked up over the Alpha so blatantly invading his privacy. To make matters worse he was thinking—can he say that?—about said Alpha at the time and he has to hope Slade didn’t pick up on that. But Oliver’s thoughts are unfortunately confirmed though at the next thing the Alpha says.

“You don’t have to stop saying my name if you don’t want to,” Slade chuckles, low and throaty as Oliver can feel the colour drain from his face even as he tries to remain defiant in the face of one he’s not sure if he should consider his enemy.

Fuck, shit, Slade!

Trying to edge backwards from the other isn’t really helping either as Oliver finds his back is firmly planted against the tiling of the wall as he’s starting to wish he could just sink into it and disappear.

How humiliating, though he manages to keep his cool and not blow a fuse in in favour of remaining quiet when he sure as hell doesn’t need anyone else in the house knowing what’s going on right now.

“ _’Let me go_ , and what do you think you’re doing here?” Oliver hisses, making sure to keep his voice low as his mother and sister were only several rooms away each.

He’s dripping wet now, gradually becoming freezing though how feverish he feels keeps him running hot. The house was getting draughty at night now in the winter though he refrains from sleeping with the electric blanket on, knowing he’ll no doubt wake up clammy and sweaty. Which is further augmented and worsened when he ends up waking up that way regardless, as he’s in heat way earlier than he would have usually expected.

He should punch Slade; punch him right in the face. Maybe in his obviously missing eye but he’s not sure he wants to risk breaking his knuckles on the Alpha’s face. He’ll need them if he wants to punch Slade anytime in the near future.

Which will obviously end up being a yes based on the Alpha’s next choice of words.

“Excuse me, for not being able to resist the siren’s call of an Omega in heat,” Slade deadpans.

Who is still managing to look surprisingly in control for an Alpha around said Omega in heat. Maybe it was a Mirakuru thing or something but Oliver doesn’t care, the less seemingly likely it was that Slade was going to come onto him, the better.

“Well you can fuck off. I don’t need you,” Oliver spits with possibly more venom than he needs to, emphasising his point by trying to jerk out of Slade’s grasp again.

Slade might not have actually been doing anything bar keeping a hold on him, but he’s done it multiple times now and Oliver’s sure it’s just to piss him off. He can’t bring himself to really want to fight back either though, especially not know when his muscles are protesting the slightest of movements.

“You are not the only one this affects,” Slade growls.

“Well maybe you should stay away from me then!”

Like he’d hoped Slade would but that seemed to have backfired.

“Well, maybe I could if you weren’t sending me out siren signals for the past half an hour, especially considering how mixed they’ve been.”

Oliver’s stunned a bit by Slade’s words, feeling himself flinch inwardly. Not liking what the Alpha was implying but quickly retorts before he can really think.

“Bullshit, I’ve never tried to signal you at all.”

By signalling Oliver was interpreting Slade’s words as when Alphas and Omegas in particular, not so much Betas, would make indications to one another based mainly on scent. It was a common practice in Bonded couples so he has no idea what Slade is on about.

“Well, you wanted me here.”

Slade doesn’t even seem to try to think up a smart response to his argument. That irritates him though.

“Did not!”

“Why would I be here otherwise?”

“Exactly, you can fuck off.”

Slade growls at him, teeth gritted and Oliver’s almost sure he can see the Alpha’s eye darken in irritation.

“And you can let me go while you’re at it,” he verbally nudges.

“You. Wanted. Me. Here,” Slade snaps and Oliver can feel his confidence waver under the Alpha’s gaze.

“Well, I don’t,” Oliver manages to work out without having his voice crack.

“It’s like you said,” Slade huffs, as if trying to remain calm, “if you go into heat, I’ll go into rut.”

“So stay away from me and we don’t have a problem then!”

“It doesn’t work that way. I can sense it and feel it without having to even be near you.”

Oliver sighs, growing quickly tired of yelling as quietly he deems possible at Slade so no one else might hear them. It felt like he was fighting a losing battle as Slade did make some valid points, albeit ones he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I can’t ask you to leave nicely?” he tries.

“No,” Slade bluntly puts in an end-of-discussion tone.

“You’re driving me crazy and we’ve tried this before. I tried before, never quite could stay away.. You should know that,” Slade proclaims.

Oliver’s not quite sure how to respond to that yet knows he dislikes the position he’s being put in all the same. A stalemate that Slade’s corned him into many times before and one that unfortunately always seems to end with compromise on his end. A game he couldn’t seem to win no matter how hard he tried.

He’s tired, irritated and aching. Right now he’d appreciated Slade off his back as well too.

“Are you going to let me go?” he half-groans after a long pause of silence passes between them.

“Well you’re not even trying to get free,” Slade says and his expression seems to brighten.

The Alpha quickly detaches from him though, dropping backwards slightly and Oliver feels the urge to attack once he’s been giving the vantage point to. But that would be stupid and Slade seems to have backed down so best he do so as well.

“If you’re not leaving at least get me a towel.”

He’s been sitting dripping wet for the past couple minutes and the last thing he wanted to do was closely move past Slade naked. That was not something he wanted to do in the least when right now he’s feeling surprisingly quite in control of himself. Not like he might possibly jump Slade at all or feel he wants the sex that badly anymore.

Maybe that’s what happens when he practically got the living daylights scared out of you.

“Way ahead of you, kid,” Slade smirks, offering a white bath towel to him the Alpha seems to have pulled out from somewhere Oliver can’t see.

Oliver resists the urge to ridicule Slade about the ‘kid’ thing he’s grown to dislike but settles for attentively creeping forward to grab the towel instead and dragging it off the Alpha.

“Do you mind leaving?” Oliver asks, draping the towel across his legs.

Not caring that parts of the fabric drop into the leftover water of the shower floor but also not trusting himself to be able to successfully get up without embarrassing himself.

Slade just looks at him bemused and Oliver’s not sure if it’s a genuine smile that crosses his face.

“You really didn’t think this through, did you?”

Oliver’s not even quite sure what the Alpha’s referring to but right now he doesn’t care and just quickly assumes it’s the most obvious thing. The uncanny manner he’s attempted to use to keep Slade at a distance.

“It wasn’t my first choice of action…”

“Well then what was?” Slade chides.

Oliver huffs, shivering slightly from the cold he’s practically gotten used to at this stage.

“Look, you can stay alright just leave me be for like five seconds.”

That better not have come out as whiny as it did to Oliver’s own ears. If it did, Slade doesn’t mention it, thankfully just gets up from the tiling of the floor and glances back at him for a moment as if waiting for confirmation to leave.

“Go. Now. Or I’ll reconsider letting you just hang about here.”

“Alright, alright,” Slade says as if trying to be reassuring before escorting himself out of the bathroom and closing the door on the way out.

Oliver’s left thinking whether or not he’s made the right choice or not as he quickly goes to dress himself. Not trusting Slade to keep to his word that he’d give him privacy for the moment.

 


	12. Rekindling

Slade attentively closes the door behind him, leaving Oliver alone as he got the impression this was in in no way the best situation for him to come poking around the other in. Especially when he’s nudging around hoping he can muster up the strength to ask for something akin to an apology, though for what exactly—the hurt, his mistakes, how he’d been kind of a dick before he’d found out what it was he and Oliver were _supposed_ to be at ends with each other for—either one of those.

A part of him still burns up, makes his veins singe like he’s got liquid fire coursing through them, at the thought of Oliver. Slade’s not sure if that’s his own guilt stabbing him in the back over working the same vendetta he has been for the last two years that he’d never realized, never even thought to consider, that he could have inavertedly created himself.

Or if that’s some deep-seated hate he still manages to find for the Omega wrestling with the emotions in side of him that are obviously the sheer opposite of that.

Can he ask for some sort of universal apology here?

Not that he feels he entirely wants to as that’s like admitting Oliver’s gotten the advantage here he clearly wanted, the only one he seemed to be able to get. Won by coercion and intelligence—no, stupidity as Oliver’s boxed himself in as well here—than by force and intimidation.

It was a stalemate for the both of them from here onwards and although Oliver might have been an Omega he was no were near as soft or forgiving as his dynamic might suggest. When he was, or if he was going to be—softer, or at least less cold than usual—, it was obvious that the Omega made attempts to cover it up, not appear anything like a weak, fragile creature Omegas were often made out to be.

Not like Oliver, six-or-so-years ago, a naïve kid who’s dynamic would either be the only thing that kept him alive, granted it appealed to someone else—like himself—, or just adding to getting him killed like the rest of his apparent faults at that stage.

That’s why, right now, trying to give the Omega some semblance of privacy seems to be his best bet right now. After, Oliver tells him to, quote, “fuck off”, several times as no doubt he was invading the Omega’s most intrapersonal spaces. The only added edge he seemed to have over Oliver at this moment that didn’t involve being blatantly threatening—that latter which would imply he didn’t care about what Oliver thought of him though.

Which, Slade knew—that by leaving Oliver now he was giving up his point of advantage, and also vantage point over the Omega—but that awareness is accompanied by his own greater, overpowering urge that he has to resist to just go back into Oliver’s presence, regardless of how hissy the other might get.

It was an instinctual need within him that couldn’t be quelled by something so simple as distance or just knowing Oliver was fine—as his senses had ticked him off with worry earlier that something was wrong, hence him coming out here in the first place—and it only seemed to worsen with it.

The Mirakuru might have warped everything out of portion in the first place—the resentment, the disgust over losing his eye—, but seeing Oliver again, it was like it had grounded him. Their worlds might have been different, always had been—a city kid and a solider from completely different backgrounds—but right now they’re one in the same.

Lack of communication pulled them apart and it seems neither of them were willing to break those streaks.

Slade should, he knew he had to.

Probably had more reason to do so than Oliver did. Because while Oliver might suffer from wanting his dick up his arse a little too often for the Omega’s liking, the only moments of freedom he seemed to be finding from dreamscape-like lapses that have all to swiftly slipped into every hour of his day are obtained via alcohol, intoxication. Or rather knocking himself out via the most unconventional method he thinks is possible.

He dreams too much, sleeps too little and as far as he’s concerned that’s the worse alternative to whatever shit Oliver feels he needs to complain about. You wouldn’t think he still could, dream with a body full of once foreign poison that has now become his lifeblood, but he does, and he’s almost certain that’s what makes it worse.

Warps everything out of proportion until he’s not sure how he felt in the first place. How things could have gone so wrong, so wrong between someone he once thought he could call brother. The Mirakuru possibly having rooted the trauma so deep in the first place that it seemed to flow through his every action and had ended up motivating him for years to come.

With Slade only having bits and pieces of what had really happened. What had really happened to cause Oliver to want to kill him, or think he had to, or at least attempt to. They’re only fragments though, like something purposefully repressed. Purposefully, because it was painful.

Painful to think Oliver would damn him to be alone after they’d both just lost Shado. Shado who managed to be an all too important distraction but still shared the same intelligence and eerily calmness her father possessed, granted she still taught Oliver as free game as well. Because what Alpha was going to share when there was old-fashioned fighting that could be done.

He now knows why at least.

Knows why for many nights a year, his dreams would only be filled with the screams and thrashes of Oliver, though he never knew why. Just thought it was the Omega somehow managing to punish him in spite, even in his mind he wouldn’t leave him alone and still managed to get under his skin. For so long he was certain he’d have to go, track down the real thing and kill him just to make sure he was certain to silence his ghost.

Make him shut up when all he did was lie to Slade and torment him for mistakes that were not his.

He’d been wrong.

Whereas before his days might have been filled with pondering over the progress of how close he was to breaking Oliver once he had the pieces in place, now he dreads even the days like he does the nights. As he just ended up doing the exact opposite, second-guessing himself on how he was supposed to fix things, cave in the empire that he had created for a single purpose he no longer wants to be a part of.

Had aborted that purpose, and more so than anything was fretting over how he was supposed to ask the forgiveness of the Omega.

When he had been the one to fuck up.

Oliver hadn’t been lying; his dreams were just as much nightmares as they were reality.

And then Slade had tried to lie to himself, to tell himself different, different than the former, or so he thought, as even he’s not sure what’s real anymore. What he was like before he had darkness encroaching on the edge of his mind at seemingly every second.

Did he want to kill Oliver, did he ever? Or did he just want to isolate and crush his soul like the Omega had done him?

He’s not sure, can’t be sure after what Oliver had told him at Verdant. Which he knew that the Omega’s words were indeed true, from the way his voice cracked and his stance faltered, the way the other didn’t come after him or seem to try since they’ve both apparently left each other in shambles since that day.

Oliver’s whole statement back there completely fucked him up.

That he could have hurt, really hurt beyond a shred of doubt, the Omega he’d unexpectedly began to feel things for so long ago. The one that he had eventually came to want to destroy, wreck beyond recognition because it’s started to feel like that’s the only way he’ll get some resemblance of release.

Release from the years he’s spent aimless and wandering, only to find the one that he believes had induced that same suffering on him is alive and well.

Alive and well, seems to have forgotten about him, never seemed to think he might have been alive or came back for him, and that hurt. It had hurt so bad even after the years past, that Oliver had pushed him to what he’d become and for that he’d return the suffering tenfold.

Or he thought he would.

Before, his days would go by fairly smoothly, ticking over the daylight hours, as he made slow but sure progress towards inflicting the same suffering on Oliver as the Omega had done on him. Now they were just the same as the nights were Slade doesn’t sleep well. Hadn’t for a long time, doesn’t feel he needs to, not when there’s adrenaline possibly pumping through him twenty-four-seven, thrumming with constrained energy not getting an outlet.

Or is that just stress?

After a while, even with his stamina, such vivid hallucinations seeming to be the first thing in the morning he wakes up with and the last thing embracing him before sleep,  has started to take its toll, even on him.

Especially when a lot of that is accompanied with no proper rest in-between. Luckily he manages to not like noticeably like shit though, which he guessed was one added benefit of the Mirakuru, the biggest downside being he couldn’t get pissed easily.

Hence why after all this time, even after he’d been the one to do so _last_ time, he has to initiate first contact. For a multitude of reasons not just on his end by also because there seemed no way Oliver was going to come to him in any scenario other than through his window with an arrow pointed at him.

Maybe he could get Oliver to fill in the blanks in his memory as well, if he could trust the Omega to tell the truth.

And not pull any deceptive shit like he had last time as Slade is equally having to resist… _certain_ temptations right now.

The temptation he was resisting at this point in time wasn’t the one or kind you’d expect him to need to be at this moment either.

Though Slade could pick up the smell of heat more than a street block away—the sort of radius a thoroughbred Alpha had at detecting Omegas—he didn’t notice it with Oliver until he was quietly fumbling with the doorknob to his room. Listening for light breathing that would suggest the Omega was asleep or maybe he wasn’t in at all, but then where the hell could he have been otherwise?

The sultry scent that assaulted his olfactory system caught him off guard.

Slade had known something was wrong even before he stealthily crept through the Queen Manor to the second floor. Had known so from the moment he woke up barely an hour earlier.

Not just because of the lack of nightmares flooding his afterthoughts like they usually did when he was awoken. Or the still half-hazy hangover symptoms that had lingered with him, body yet to burn out the secondary poison he’d started commonly introducing to it—he may have an alcohol problem, he’s not sure—in the nights, and days, going into the weeks, following the incident with Oliver at Verdant, more so than he usually did.

Oliver…

Something was amiss or had happened with Oliver.

Slade didn’t exactly know he how had known but he just did. He just did.

He hadn’t expected it to be _this_ though.

He hadn’t been roused by feverish dreams, sweat staining his sheets—or not at that point he hadn’t, if he’d attempted to go back to sleep; he would bet he would have been awoken as such again in a couple of hours. Or perhaps what had tipped him off in the first place, the coiling sensation in his gut, would just have continued pestering him if left unattended.

Which there was no chance in hell he wasn’t going to, seeing as he was sure whatever was up involved Oliver.

He’d woken up with the Omega’s name on his tongue, common occurrence lately. Not in the sense that he was going to be yelling it from the top of his lungs either.

Just there, and he’d licked his lips as if doing so would allow him to savour the younger man’s taste. The arch between his neck, his collarbone, the smoothness of his lips he’d only touched the twice now.

Maybe it was the Bond—that Slade had been reluctant to warm to at first but it did connect him to Oliver, the only thing Oliver had left him with right now—like an enhanced sixth sense tipping him off. Giving him, what he assumed was, notice that circumstances had grown dire on his Omega’s end and that he should get to him, lest he can’t do anything right as an Alpha and ignores the strain of one’s own Bond.

 _Go_ , _protect him, look after him_. _Like you always did._

Albeit shying away from seeing Oliver again at first—not sure what the younger man wanted, if he hated him or not—there was no way Slade could have just rolled over and attempted to have gone back to sleep after his untimely awakening.

Not when he’d felt so strongly the way he did. Uneasy.

Regardless, Slade still ended up staggering awake from sleep. Even if there were no dreams for him to remember or recall. He doesn’t need for there to be as they’re always the same.

Over the weeks that had passed, following confronting Oliver at Verdant about their Bond, Slade had nightmares about the Omega more than anything. Just as he always had done, even before he had known Oliver was alive.

More so than the years on the island, more so than killing his once-best-friend Billy, more so than Shado’s lifeless frame, more so than the people whose lives he has taken,  and more so than any other form of torture he’s ever been through.

They’re all the same, but those with Oliver had always been—no, are still—the worst.

And since that day down in Verdant it’s as if the dreams had gotten worse.

Slade’s wasn’t at all ready to give any of them—his fears—a chance at becoming reality though as he’d still decided to ignore how pissed off Oliver might be with him in favour of checking if there was anything actually wrong. Oliver could have been in trouble.

The former was secondary to actually getting to see the Omega though, as since the sex Slade had taken to sleeping in and populating the room—that he’d dumped Oliver in to sleep of his exhaustion in—with all the necessary living supplies. Keeping it well-stocked as his main room of residence.

Albeit the apartment wasn’t the largest, containing only a kitchen, bedroom and an adjoined bathroom, that was plenty enough to live on. It held sentimental value for Slade, maybe because for a while it held Oliver’s scent and even now he’s refusing to put the bed sheets through the wash.

Having chucked them into a corner of the laundry, which having them—like a part of Oliver still there—did not dissuade him from wanting to see the real thing however.

Dammit, why’d the Omega have to go and be in heat right now…

He never even went into heat this often on the island—almost monthly was ridiculous though standard for Omega females. Although—Slade stops and sniffs warily for a moment, glancing over his shoulder—Oliver does not smell as potent as an Omega as he’d expect him to. Meaning he’s actually quite calm right now and not at all feeling like he’s just a wall or so away from an Omega in heat.

Weird… really weird.

Though considering just about the Omega’s entire room is smothered in Beta spray, can he be surprised?

 _Ugh_ , it’s borderline disgusting as he actually knows what Oliver really smells like and this is _not_ it. The whole thing is like a middle finger to his most instinctive nature.Beta perfumes and stuff are also really confusing being an Alpha, like they send really mixed signals and the last thing you want is for Omega’s to go around wearing them.

Slade moves away from the bathroom where it’s almost like he’d taken up post, waiting on Oliver to come out of there.

Oliver’s been in there for a while. Should he be worried?

It didn’t take someone that long to get dressed unless you were physically unable to. But Omegas take a while to get ready, especially if they’re trying to impress someone.

Is he trying to impress Oliver?

He would have made a better attempt at trying to by not just chucking on the first thing he had that wasn’t a suit, considering he slept with nothing on.

For now though, while Slade waits on Oliver to compose himself, he’ll get to work.

xxxxxxxx

As soon as Oliver’s confident he’s, for the most part, alone, he lets slip the large bath towel from around his body and immediately starts kneading it into places like his hair. Places where he was still dripping wet from the lack of wanting to actually dry himself.

He hasn’t had the peace of modesty to want to reveal anything more than he already has what with Slade only now just leaving him alone. Not that there was anything to be ashamed of but when the Alpha was noticeably sizing him up and down, Oliver couldn’t help but want to scurry out from underneath his gaze.

At least when he was completely exposed and very much at the potential mercy of whatever the Alpha wanted to do to him.

In that situation, he wouldn’t stand his ground... would much rather bolt despite the cowardliness in doing so.

The Alpha almost makes him feel like a child again, as he’s one of the few people that’s actually seen him through multiple periods of his life, including the potential worst of it. When he was a shipwrecked, stupid _Omega_ constantly reliant on Alphas to come save his hide. Usually from other equally so threatening Alphas as on Lian Yu, his dynamic making him little more than an Alpha’s unclaimed bitch to be fought over.

Majority of Alphas in civilization might have been diluted in their blood lines now that they were basically only a knot away from a Beta but make no mistake, put the predators back in their natural territory and give them the incentive to fight for it…

Well, you had a recipe for disaster right there he had lived to witness.

Still, Slade seemed to be among the _better_ thoroughbred Alphas—Oliver’s not sure if his post-island actions are being included into that statement—and in spite of the home invasion… He still feels Slade stands as the best of the Alphas that’s been around him—despite that being a very small list of individuals—who actually knew he wasn’t a Beta, not that it was by choice in the first place.

Maybe that’s why now, even as he’s dropping the bath towel he’s been draping over his shoulders so it’s hanging around his ankles—feeling his apparent nakedness awash over him—he’s letting Slade hang around. Or at least feels he owes him the courtesy to let the other do so. Maybe try and explain himself while he was at it.

Oliver stills for a moment after releasing his towel, nakedness not bothering him because of the state of it but the Alpha lingering outside his bathroom he’s had the stupidity to actually agree on letting stay. Rather than still demanding that Slade leave, which would have been the smarter play.

The Omega sighs at his thought process, resisting the urge to check the door behind him which he hasn’t had a chance to lock yet. He does it anyway, flicking his head around even though right now he should really just be focused on concealing himself, again. Because there seemed a small chance in hell that Slade was going to leave him alone for very long. Maybe the comfort of the lock would help that but then again; this is Slade he was talking about.

The door’s still thankfully shut, not even the tiniest bit ajar, but he paces over and flicks the lock up anyway, trusting his instincts. The action gives him a slight semblance of relief though not enough to ease his worries as he’s quickly darting for the clothes he’d left aside in the bathroom. Intended for after he had a relatively peaceful shower—or as peaceful as one could get when they had a maelstrom tearing up their insides—and then he could just go back to wanking himself in bed and dirty his next lot of sweatpants.

If he wasn’t going to be freezing his ass off with the winter weather seeping in through the walls and clawing at his skin, he might have just slept naked. That made things semi-easier as well and he still would have been tempted to despite the cold had Slade not just decided to show up.

Oliver’s hasty in pulling on a threadbare top on as even previously trying to clog his nose with scent neutralizer, now that the chemicals have been stripped away with sweat and water, he can acutely smell that Slade’s still around. _Not left._

Despite him wanting to be fingers-crossed on the Alpha just leaving as this looked to be obviously awkward for the both of them. Or at least it was for him, having his room—his second sanctum to the Verdant basement—invaded whilst right on heat and trying to relieve that gripping intensity.

Who was he kidding? He didn’t owe Slade anything!

Not that he expected anything from the Alpha either except maybe for the other to piss off, should he not want to end up dancing around Slade for however long he decides he wants to stay in his house for, which he certainly does not want any of that. Especially not now after the Alpha has completely and utterly overstepped his boundaries, which Oliver would think they both knew were in place—again, everything off the table if anyone gets hurt in the city—does he think he should need to owe the Alpha _anything_.

How did the Alpha even get into his house in the first place?! Not that he couldn’t return the favour and come diving through Slade’s office, bow and arrow in hand. It’s not like he gave Slade a key or anything but if past record was anything to go off, Slade did a fairly good job of discreetly breaking and entering into his Hood hideout with him being none the wiser or suspecting anything prior.

Afterwards, he’d checked the locks and found everything to be intact, not like it was completely busted or anything. Even if the locks had been semi-screwed he wouldn’t have wanted to draw their attention to Felicity and Diggle, lest they start asking any more questions than Oliver is sure are already on their minds.

His friends might have thought they were being successful in keeping their boring unsaid accusations from seemingly burning holes into the back of his head but if anyone was the master of keeping secrets—or at least trying to—it was him.

Hence he could tell fairly earlier on the poor job of it his friends were doing when they would exchange each other knowing glances, quirk their eyebrows at him when he said he was “just going out for the night to do Arrow business”.

It’s all a poor attempt at concealing the gimmick but he’s almost sure that’s part of the point.

Several times in the past few weeks it had looked like one or the other of them was going to try and crack the surface of what was going on with him but each time he’d managed to steer the conversation around. With less and less success each time so that now it just felt like he was starting to cold-shoulder his companions in those instances.

That _hurt_ , his dishonesty more than anything and with all these recent turns of events, he’s more convinced than ever he has to do something about the Slade situation. No matter what that possibly could be.

At this stage, he’s not even sure what his friends might suspect though obviously nothing good. It hasn’t gotten to the point yet where they’ve practically confronted and attacked him together about the situation either so it mustn’t be too serious in their minds to the point where it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle himself. Not that going at it alone seemed like anything any of them liked letting the others do.

The question was then, that Oliver had asked himself multiple times under the half-gaze, half-glares of his friends, was what did they suspect? Or for fact, what did they know? He doesn’t think he’s been anything but discreet with the Slade situation around them so he doesn’t think he’s let anything solid let slip around them.

Still hasn’t elaborated on his semi-bullshit story of what happened all those nights ago in the Glades either, though there’s no doubt in his mind that neither of them totally believed what he was saying.

Oliver can feel a grimace begin to form on his face as he pushes the matter of his friends to the side. At least for the moment as he goes to tug on his sweatpants last, not wanting them washed any sooner than necessary.

Even with the lesser amount of fluid than he was usually used to Oliver could still feel the liquid trickling out from between his thighs. No doubt his body aching up at the presence of an Alpha but had Oliver had less respect for himself; he would just submit to his dynamic and fuck himself with one of those dildos with an artificial knot.

Which again, he wouldn’t, as he holds himself in a much higher regard than that but there was still that alternative to wanting to—no, wait, what is he thinking! Oliver might have slapped himself had the realization not just dawned on him that he could _indeed_ be sending Slade chemically-induced signals.

Not that he means to but he also doesn’t mean for his thoughts to trudge up the memories and feelings they do and will. Like, _holy shit—that is an_ actual _Alpha. Wow, he’s got a really nice looking… ummm, everything?_

Oliver wishes he could punch his younger self in the face for falling prey to such obvious instincts and the trap therein. Thinking about it was worse though, so he manages to halt that thought process from taking off but he can’t stop the pangs of interest starting to spark up in his lower gut.

 _No_ , he was better than this. Has resisted an Alpha’s knot nearly a half a dozen times before when he was much weaker in spirit, he can do it again now. _Yeah_ , and it was coming back from the island he’d already buckled twice and took it up the ass. That’s a ratio of once every seven months and if tonight was going to be any indication…

 _Shit, god dammit,_ Oliver couldn’t help but cuss to himself as he tried to compose himself as quickly as possible, seeing as his brain just went straight into the gutter and his thoughts showed no signs of stopping that track.

Was there anything wrong with the fact that he might have liked dick?

Well, not so much dick, but being knotted was quite… pleasurable. In the pleasurable sense that ‘only-taking-it-up-the-ass-is-going-to-do-me-any-good-so-screw-it-there-is-no-other-alternative.’

How had Slade just known to show up here though?

Oliver can almost immediately begin to feel what he deemed his more ‘rational’ thought process right now kicking in, fretting over to what extent the Bond was actually binding him. Or rather, him to Slade and vice versa.

Did Slade really know he was in heat before he got here? And how…?

Oliver did not remember wanting Slade here at all, particularly because of the situation it would put him in and there was no way he was just going to sabotage himself like that. Well, that might be a lie. As semi-coerced Bonding for the greater prospect of ensnaring Slade where he could keep him under wraps had to be one of the worst things he could remember doing in recent history that could very well backfire on him horribly.

 _Has it backfired on you yet,_ a part of him can’t help but scrutinize and question.

 _Yes_ , it has.

If somehow he’s managing to inadvertently signal Slade over reasonable distances without the intention of doing so. Oliver can’t help but glare at himself in the mirror, raking a hand through his hair, as if that might give him the solution to his problems. The mirror’s fogged up with steam despite how draughty the old house feels and he uses the palm of his hand to try and wipe some clearance back into the glass.

Could he really be doing something like that?

Sure, he’d thought about Slade during the weeks pasted more times than he wanted to admit. Not because he actually _likes_ the Alpha or anything but because what else is he supposed to do?

Not try and fret over what Slade was doing—despite the fact that the ‘not good’ things seemed to have ceased—because out of sight, out of mind, did not apply to Slade Wilson.

If anything, not knowing what Slade was up to, made things worse as the intention of the Bond might have been to keep Slade at a distance for want of not hurting his ‘precious Omega’—oh, he could play that game _very_ well—but when the Alpha’s not around anyway it seems like the whole thing was for nil. Or was that contradicting himself?

Oliver’s not very honed in to the Bond either, most of the time just trying to ignore it, as it was the little pangs and rippling movements inside of himself like a ticking clock he could be sure were attributed to it. It was the little almost insignificant things that made him feel like he had moths—no, not butterflies—dancing around in his stomach and setting off chains of emotions he was sure did not originate from within him. Or if they did they were buried quite deeply.

This has to be one of the most morbid situations Oliver can remember himself being caught in and by the worst possible person too. A freaking Alpha which his body is just about begging him for. Just the person he did _not_ want to see.

If his cheeks didn’t feel like ice from water sluicing down them for so long, he’s sure they would have been bright red. To compliment that, right now Oliver feels like he could legitimately just jump out the window or something if it meant he had a moment of peace away from Slade.

Invasive but equally persuasive Alpha that he’s just trying to buy time away from. Which might have been possibly if he actually had a window in his bathroom though since he doesn’t, he’s pretty much trapped at this stage.

After spending nearly a month or so actually trying to avoid Slade, having the other suddenly corner him was in no way reassuring him that Slade might have still been pissed off about the whole Bonding thing.

Well, they didn’t seem to be avoiding each other, rather a matter of who would buckle first and come crawling back as a Bond was in no way breakable singularly. Only by natural causes if one or the other dies and with that Oliver made sure to throw down the gauntlet as hard as he knew how to.

It was death or nothing as far as he was concerned and Slade’s proven not vigilante enough to want to kill him. His most recent actions keep proving that theory and the Omega’s not sure whether to consider himself safe.

What sounds like rummaging outside his door tips Oliver back off to reality.

What the hell does Slade think he’s doing out there?

Oliver attempts to steel himself once more before inevitably going out to face the Alpha. Scowling and trying his best to conceal the mental and physical turmoil going on within him. _I’m in heat and Slade is in my bedroom._

Great, just great.

He was caught off guard before though so this time he’ll be more prepared for… whatever Slade tries to pull.

He turns around from glaring at himself in the mirror, unlocking and opening the door before he has a chance to hesitate, change his mind or decide that he should possibly fret some mind.

When he finds his voice, Oliver’s already yelling as quietly as he thinks to.

“What are you doing!”


	13. Breakthrough

Oliver’s got no game plan for what the hell he’s supposed to do about Slade.

Didn’t, even before Slade decided to creep into his domestic abode—separate away from the Arrow lair, where he wouldn’t think the Alpha game enough to tread into for the great breech in his solitude it would be. The harshest possible measure of trying to test the waters, straight up jumping into the deep end, when he himself is not sure which way the current is going either. Or which way he wants it to.

Backwards… backwards was the most comforting option, if he could forget Slade was still alive and remain oblivious to the Alpha ever having shown up in Starling City… maybe he would. Though that alternative still meant at some stage their paths would have to cross again, possibly in harsher fashion than they original had what felt like years ago in the Glades.

They’d come to blows eventually and maybe it would turn out to be a onetime fluke that he was able to deter Slade to change his mind about wanting to rip his life apart limb from limb.

Quell… whatever madness be it that gripped him. Did he ever change Slade’s mind? Or did he just bring the Alpha to the… blindness of his actions— _their_ actions.

Oliver’s still somewhat blinded, he’s sure, or there’s certain _things_ he doesn’t want to admit to. Maybe not now, maybe not ever. Yet, what would have happened had they not both been pulled to their senses? Would they have been forced to play out the same dancing-around-one-another game though in more gruelling attempts than the ones they’d made now? Only ending with possibly the death of either one or both of them?

Even if Oliver could tick back time, he knows that isn’t an option.

He can’t kill Slade, despite the ill-fitting closure it would bring him and the peace that might continue to hang over Starling City if he did so. Not in this timeline, the past, or even if he did manage to reverse time somehow, probably not even then. He _knows_ he couldn’t do it. Seemingly not anywhere or at any possible time.

Not for lack of trying to or the unyielding oath he made to Tommy on the Alpha’s deathbed to honour his memory, yet because of the absence of actually _wanting_ to. _Needing_ to.

Oliver can’t stop him, he knows that, maybe never could. As stopping him—preventing Slade from going onwards with seeking his destruction, should he ever choose to pursue it again—would mean indefinitely _killing_ him.

As long as Slade didn’t put himself beyond reason, he didn’t have to do that. Right?

Could he do it, if he needed to though? If it meant choosing between acting as a human shield for his friends and family, helping prolong their own existences, or letting Slade walk away and do as he pleased because of Oliver’s own sentimental feelings?

He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to be brought down to that choice.

It’s in Slade’s DNA to be stronger, faster, and more durable than he is, without needing to even include the added super serum that completely dismantled any chance Oliver had of ever beating him one vs one. Combat-wise at least.

That was Alphas for you, not counting the ones with all the Beta dilution in their lines that he could give a run for their money any day of the week.

Whereas his dynamic—his stupid dynamic, why did he have to be born this way—would _usually_ imply that he’s a needy pawn, meant to be settled down with kids by mid-twenties and roll over into submission at the first sign of an Alpha.

_Usually_ , the key word there definitely being usually. Or the implication of the usually as ninety-percent of the time that probably hit the nail on the head with Omegas, no matter how much they didn’t want to admit to their confusing biology.

For him, it was like the opposite, that was almost always the worst way to describe him and he takes heed to make sure he never falls into lapsing moments like that.

This… is not one of those times. This time, Oliver has _failed_ in that endeavour.

xxxxxxxx

Oliver is certain he’s been too loud, his shout seeming to echo in the back of his own mind even after he’s slammed his mouth shut. So he seethes quietly for the moment, immediately realizing his shout—a short-fused display of irrationalism—might have just cost him for wanting to have a go at Slade.

Anxious and expecting the soft footfalls of slippered feet coming up the hallway at any moment now that would indefinitely signal he’d been heard. No doubt his cry seeming like one of distress rather than the snap of agitation that it was.

_That was way too loud,_ Oliver’s immediately acknowledging, eyes darting to the door and then back again to Slade. As the matter of whether the rare staff—like Raisa—that stayed overnight was going to come knocking on his door, asking if he was okay, seemed like a miniscule drama in comparison to the shit Slade was cooking up with him.

He’s got pain searing into every seemingly possible corner of his being, to say he’s annoyed would be an understatement. He’s practically a hormonal Omega ready to bite the head off of the first person that looks at him funny, hence him choosing to stay indoor on nights like this.

That last thing he needed was Slade trying to fuck with him.

He needn’t explode _just_ yet though.

Waiting on instead for Slade to look at giving him some attempt at an explanation, even though he knows there’s no ‘logical’ one. At least not one he’s feels he’s willing to accept in the wait of the moment like this.

He clenches then releases his fists, deciding against getting himself worked up over this, or he’d refrain from being that way inclined.

Not when he already had fire dancing away in his stomach, the slow burn to exhaustion or possibly even snuffed out earlier before it got there—to burning out on its own—by an outlet he wasn’t going to allow himself. Even though the solution was lying right there in front of him!

No need to add his own boiling vat of anger and irritation to that already explosive mix, Oliver settling on not trying to get himself anymore agitated than he already was. He could feel it settling into his bones, courtesy to the aches and pains spread up over his body like wildfire that he really should be trying to rest off at this stage.

_Rest?_ When did rest ever _begin_ to define heats in the first place?

By ‘rest’, Oliver means he would try his luck at restlessly thrashing about in his sheets, waiting for the tell-tale signs of daylight peeking through the curtains, before he’d begin to expect his biology’s pathetic breakdown to pass of its own accord. Or at least ease up to the point where it would become manageable and he’d feel like he could be in the presence of other people without being certain he was going to get jumped and dacked over a table at any moment.

Oliver knows he still has a way to go before he reaches the peak of his heat’s intensity, hours which he’ll no doubt spend sweating and scowling at himself for not having the balls to reveal himself to the world and look at a long-term solution to his problem. Not trusting the privacy policy of general practitioners or doctors to not out himself themselves, or really anyone for that matter to not reveal his secret.

Maybe he should look at getting himself fixed up. That made him sound like a dog though, a real bitch. What was one more scar to his collection anyway though?

Yet for now, coming out of the bathroom—that Oliver’s sure he’s spent more time fretting in than actually trying to make himself look decent in—he wants to crawl into bed. Sleep through this heat or do his best to try to. Forget all about Slade or tell him to piss off if he’s serious about hanging about.

He could come back in the morning or something— _not_ to his house—as right now the only thing Oliver wants to be looking at is the back of his eyelids. Which he would be proceeding to do that, kick Slade out, if the Alpha wasn’t actually _on_ his bed.

He’s pissed off, he is so mad, like what the—or so he is until…

“You’ve been keeping me waiting,” Slade purrs, low and in the back of his throat, in a way seemingly only an Alpha could.

Almost a growl, the trail off at the end causing Oliver to fall silent almost immediately, a quiet husk. Forgetting what anger, shock—surprise even—that he had, as he’s sure in that moment he can feel those emotions morph into… something entirely else, having Slade do what he does.

Gazing over from the end of Oliver’s bed where he’s lying sideways across the foot of it, eyes glinting—dark and predatory in the dim glows provided only by the curtained moonlight drifting in from outside and the lone bulb on in the bathroom. Oliver blocking the majority of the latter luminance remaining where he was, feeling his legs turn to lead.

The Alpha had obviously been there for a while—or at least for the length of time Oliver had spent tearing his hair out in the other room—made himself at home, all whilst smiling back that stupid smirk Oliver hates. _Wait, is he genuinely smiling—_ and— _is he fucking with me_ , are the only things that cross the Omega’s mind outside of wanting to be utterly pissed that Slade’s come in here and is now thinking he can drape himself all over his furniture.

_Wanting_ , being the key word there as Oliver’s not sure how he’s _supposed_ to react.  

He can feel his stomach flip—no, that’s definitely churning—as he remains stagnant in the doorframe between his ensuite and the rest of his bedroom, having fallen silent the moment after his last sentence left his mouth. Watching with wary and uncertain eyes the Alpha caress his sheets, pick his head up off his forearms, a moment ago buried into the lower mattress where Slade then proceeds to act as if nothing is wrong.

Not at all like he’s been caught red-handed with Oliver going off at him for good measure, the Omega’s tone obviously having been one of displeasure.

Slade merely glanced over last minute from lazying about the king-sized bed, on the death of Oliver’s cry at him, not seemingly affected at all by the younger man’s hostility. Turning over to face Oliver, the only apparent notation that he’d heard or been aware of the other at all, though not moving from his spot.

Duvet and sheets skewered every which way across the mattress before he even got there, Oliver notes. Signs of his previous unconscious struggle to fight his body’s breaking point and attempt to prevent it hurtling off the cliff into a heat-induced nightmare. Which, this still was one.

Whereas now, he’s fighting the relatively controllable urge—possibly placated and lessened by having five minutes by himself to catch a breather—to want to rip Slade’s head off again. Which they both know is the reason for Oliver’s sudden blow-up—Slade’s further intrusion.

Where Slade’s taken up occupying the leftover warmth of the Omega’s bed, no doubt remaining there by way of electricity, yet probably not bothered by it all the same as he wasn’t there to relish its heat.

Or at least, not _that_ kind of heat, and Oliver wants to take a conscious step backwards yet it’s like his body was frozen solid.

“Are you coming?” Slade asks, though Oliver knows it’s not a question.

Watching Slade reposition himself on the bed so they’re completely facing one another, the Alpha propping himself up against the white oak headboard of the bed. Patting the spot beside him as if to assure Oliver and at that point he notices Slade’s barefoot, shoes and socks kicked off by the windowsill. Next to the big throwback couch, which dragging his gaze back over to Slade, Oliver has to force himself to give a firm shake of his head.

“No! What the hell?”

Is the best he seems to be able to come up with on the spot, taking heed to be quieter than he usually would so as not to wake up the whole household. Luckily it seemed like no one had heard him from earlier.

He also notices that he’s keeping to the doorway, maintaining his distance like he might go to make a run for it, not sure what to do with himself.

Slade must notice this too.

“You can either come willing, or I’ll just make you.”

Was that a threat?

Oliver’s also wishing he’d put the light on when he frantically darted from his bed what felt like hours ago to the bathroom. The dim light being provided in the room meant that he couldn’t entirely see or be aware of what Slade was doing. That, on its own was an uneasy enough thought as he didn’t trust what the Alpha was up to.

He ends up practically dragging himself away from the bathroom to allow some light to spill out of there, circling the bed and hugging close to the walls.

The lighting in the bedroom is still far from what Oliver would like it to be, feeling Slade’s gaze follow him every step off the way as he makes for the door. Or rather, the lights switch next to it. Oliver keeping his eyes averted from the Alpha’s, not sure what he’ll find there and not wanting to risk the entrapment either.

They said eyes were the windows to the soul, after all.

Or just an eye, in Slade’s case.

“Your doona sheet’s going to need a good washing. You can smell your slick all over it,” Slade makes the stray observation of and Oliver is sure he can feel a vein throb in his forehead.

God damn Alpha.

“I take precautions,” Oliver starts with, trying to prevent himself from wanting to tear into Slade, instead referring to how thorough he was at ensuring no one found out the truth about him, if it could be helped.

Then decides stuff it and goes to tear into Slade anyway.

“And get your face out of my bed, you—”

Before Oliver can even fully wheel around, Slade’s just _there_ , looking him eye-to-eye.

Oh wow, he was fast and quiet when he wanted to be.

Oliver feels insides clam up and the Omega’s sure he could have fallen over there and then, had Slade not reached out to steady him, arms by his shoulders and Oliver feels his knees weaken, nearly buckling.

“—You weirdo,” he manages to stutter off and finish with, feeling Slade half-catch him.

Not that Slade hadn’t been the one to nearly make him drop, then and there.

He regrets that the Alpha did though as then Oliver couldn’t pry himself away from the other without noticeably trying to continually avert his gaze. So he doesn’t, instead dragging his sight straight upwards so their gazes had to meet at some stage and then he stops.

Dark brown—near on black—meet aqua green, and Oliver wants to punch Slade for the look—the stupid smirk—still on his face.

“A weirdo? Is that really the best you could come up with?” Slade says, quirking an eyebrow.

Oliver nearly fumbles over his own words, then decides to more properly retort.

“Well, what’s a doona then!”

What the hell was a doona anyway? Who says doona?

Oliver can see in the poor lighting Slade looking back at him, like he thought he was stupid.

“The comforter on the end of your bed with the cover on it?”

Pulling himself from Slade’s grip, thankful that the Alpha doesn’t make him pry himself away from his iron grip, Oliver then looks at Slade like he’s an idiot.

“It’s called a duvet! Not a doona.”

A doona, really? He’s never heard that word in his life.

“A doona is a duvet.”

“Whatever. I don’t believe you, that’s stupid,” Oliver sighs, rolling his eyes and wondering where Slade got that term from.

He goes to move around Slade as obviously the Alpha didn’t seem to be moving, intent on staring him down, completely forgetting about wanting to turn the light on. But Slade catches his arm by the right and forces their sights to meet again before he can get away.

“Believe this then.”

One arm snaking around into the back of Oliver’s hair, the other still holding the Omega’s right arm, Slade pulls Oliver to arm’s length unexpectedly, before touching his lips lightly to the Omega’s own.

Oliver goes to protest at the quick hand snaking up into his barely inch-long hair but is quickly silenced and shut up by Slade pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.

He goes to pull back or even do something as volatile as bite the other for continually overstepping his boundaries, feeling the Alpha tilt his head upwards so their foreheads could meet, though then stops before he can roughly jolt backwards.

He doesn’t know why he does that, lets Slade pull him impossibly closer so that he’s forced to close his eyes because of how little he can actually see and the darkness invading his sight therein. Why when Slade releases his grip over his upper arm he isn’t instantly going to use his dominant arm to sucker punch the Alpha in the jaw despite how little it might actually do to the other.

He does know though that Slade’s peck, the osculation between their skin— the way the Alpha pulls back slow and then eases back into the kiss Oliver finds himself returning the exchange of—it’s so controlled, restrained. There’s no pressure behind it, no carnal force of nature that he’d come to think Slade as and was certain was the game the Alpha was playing up until seconds ago.

Though, maybe not anymore.

Oliver tilts his head to one side, allowing Slade the ease of access he needed to tease his upper lip between his own. The added height he had over Slade obviously a nuisance, the indication there being when the Alpha lightly presses at the back of his neck like asking him to drop his head.

He obliges, and with that small action it was like he could feel the smoothness, the textures of the Alpha’s lips that much better.

Like Slade was managing to clash their close-mouthed kisses together more consistently, more times in that short span of the moment and with the aftereffect being more potent and powerful than the last.

Oliver can hear ragged breathing, somewhat pleased when he realizes it’s not only him as he won’t be the only one that needs to pull back and go to gasp for air shortly.

It could have went on for seemingly ages, but was in reality only several seconds of swift touches of skin and kisses. Before they both pull back as if on queue, around about in the same space of time, going for air.

Oliver straightens up, doing his best to escape the other’s gaze as he takes a huff of air, not sure what to think. Even as he traces his tongue over the remaining moisture across his mouth, like it’s completely unfamiliar to him, when he’s actually touched lips with the Alpha before. Not always in such a chaste manner either, yet this was good to.

Wait, did he like that? The kiss?

Well, he let the Alpha continue his advances without protest. Sure, he liked most forms of sexual interaction, especially when he got to the recipient to said pleasure—must been his Omegan nature coming to light there, loving the way he could usually get a socialite’s mouth around his dick with ease.

This… this was different though.

He can hear Slade huff and puff as he does, half-snorting through his nostrils like a well-run horse. The Alpha’s single hand still clutching into the back of his hair though not harshly, and Oliver doesn’t attempt to push the Alpha away when he goes to ask.

“Why’d you do that?”

Oliver isn’t even sure why he asks.

Again, he can barely see the Alpha’s expression but he can tell from the tone of Slade’s voice he isn’t wearing that stupid look on his face anymore that he was before.

“I didn’t want you to go anywhere, so I had to stop you somehow.”

A frown almost goes to cross the Omega’s face, like _oh_.

“This is my house, why would I be going anywhere?”

Oliver shakes his head, though they both know it isn’t a question, no matter the way he poses it. Though he didn’t think he’d given Slade the impression that he was leaving either. Just going to the door to try and get some light in the place, as otherwise he’d be going to his bedside lamps to do so. Yet that would have meant trying to creep past Slade previously, not sure what his game was.

Even now, he still doesn’t know.

Slade was being… peculiar, to say the least.

The farther away from the windows they were the less he could see, though he’s not sure if the same applied to Slade, what with he’s almost sure the Alpha had an enhanced sense of smell, greater than the average Alpha. The same could have easily gone for the rest of his sense.

Maybe he’d leave the lights off as he didn’t want Slade to see the look on his face as he’s not sure what sort of expression it’s contorted into.

The warmth in his face is hopefully a fever kicking in—and not _something_ else…—as he can feel the knifing in his gut that would usually accompany it slice through his innards.  He avoids verbally announcing his discomfort though, not sure how Slade would take it and if the Alpha might try to use his pain as an excuse to change the subject, veer it back towards him.

They weren’t here to talk about _him_. Oliver doesn’t even think Slade came here to _talk_ in the first place.

“I-I dunno. I just didn’t want you to go. Thought you were pissed off at me,” Slade sighs, and Oliver’s not quite sure what to pin down the emotion in his voice as.

Definitely not very Slade-like.

The hand cradling up around the back of his head is removed and he can hear, not so much see, the way he and Slade then shuffle around each other to create some semblance of distance between them in the dark, without actually doing much or getting anywhere.

An odd silence hangs over them and Oliver knows it probably falls to him to break it, answer the Alpha.

He doesn’t know if Slade asking him if he was mad at him was referring to before the Alpha showed up here—about the last time they saw one another, albeit he’s had weeks and time to let those wounds mend of their own accord. Or if he was ticked off that Slade was here now—not at a terribly late hour or anything, it might be a bit past ten—but that he was here at all.

Oliver imagines Slade’s leaning more towards the former though he himself is thinking more along the lines of the latter. Not particularly fond of the idea of Slade showing up in his house, when he’s bordering on heat, of all times. The implication there being…

The Omega mentally shakes off those thoughts, realizing he’s been quiet for a while and not wanting to make the silence hanging over them anymore awkward then it already was.

“I’m not mad at you,” he affirms.

Oliver can feel himself want to squirm under Slade’s gaze though refrains from doing so, not sure what to do with his arms either.

Maybe he should stare at the floor.

“You’re not?”

Slade’s voice comes out harsh and gruff, and Oliver knows now that he’s made that first statement, the first step, he has to go through with the rest.

He’d go to heavily exhale again, deflate, though he wouldn’t want Slade to take that the wrong way either, when Oliver’s fumbling over his words in his mind. He can’t see the Alpha’s eyes—dark as night themselves—although the Omega’s not sure he wants to.

“No, not really. Though maybe a little that you decide to just show up here like this.  I’m in pain, I’m agitated and I need you to—”

Slade cuts him off.

“Knot you?”

“That’s _not_ that I was going to say!” Oliver half-shouts though then realizes he better not do that.

He’s sure Slade might have chuckled then but he missed it over the tone of his own voice.

“Why come here then!” the Omega bites out before he has another go at Slade, instead turning back to the matter at hand.

“There’s no other way for me to go about this. Your little hideout at Verdant is out of the question, too risky for the both of us—” Slade starts though Oliver then cuts him off, the Omega surprised when the Alpha lets himself be talked over.

“And this isn’t?”

Oliver might have nearly hissed there, understanding that if Slade showed up underneath the club like he did last time, they both were more likely to have unexpected company stumble upon them, yet here—his own house—was barely any better. There were staff in the hallways virtually every hour of the day, bar the night when they’d all go home except the few.

Although Thea might have been spending some nights at her boyfriend Roy’s house too, that didn’t discount his mother from the equation, who would be the worst possible person to try and explain the situation of being caught out with an Alpha to. The last thing he needed his mom thinking was that he was gay, than she’d no doubt really start breathing down his neck about grandchildren and an heir.

He’s not expecting Slade to see those factors of the equation though he’d appreciate the Alpha not completely discounting them either.

“You wouldn’t appreciate me chasing after your arse on the streets at night either,” Slade responds, albeit without the harshness or tone of which Oliver used.

Oliver had to admit he did have a point. The streets were no place to talk and he certainly wouldn’t want to when he was out on an Arrow run. Still…

“I’m not sure I even like you implying you’d do that in the first place.”

“Do what?”

Oliver can practically hear the raising of eyebrows in Slade’s voice.

“That you’d come chase after my ass!”

“What? I would if I had to—”

“Slade…” Oliver warns.

“You’d probably enjoy it too. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Okay, no, seriously. What are you doing here?” Oliver snaps, though not too sharply, enough to deter the Alpha’s thought process.

Slade seems as unaffected by him as always and is quick to respond.

“I already told you—”

“I’m not letting you fuck me again.”

Oliver’s not sure why he comes out with what he does but it’s something to be addressed nevertheless. He does mentally follow up to himself though with, _at least not now_. Because he’d never want to permanently rule out sex in his books.

“I’m not here to. I’m here to _talk_ ,” Slade tries to amend.

“If by talk, you mean you were coming here to screw my brains out, then no, we’re not going to ‘talk’.”

Oliver doesn’t mean to seem hostile though he knows he can’t let his guard down either. Can’t be vulnerable around Slade, lest the Alpha take advantage of that.

“Might help with all that stress and pain you’re feeling.”

“If you want to help me you can go away,” Oliver hmphs, turning his head away and crossing his arms to give the impression of ‘end of discussion’.

“We need to talk about this eventually.”

Oliver goes to pace away from the Alpha, back through his room though is sure Slade follows him.

He wants to respond with ‘there’s nothing to talk about though’ but decides against it. He still ends up turning around to say something, not surprised to see Slade only a couple metres in front of him.

“That’s what you said last time, and look where we ended up. I was ready to _talk_ and you ran out on me.”

Oliver’s certain he’s hit a nerve, in better light easily noticing how Slade stiffens and stops his attempt at coming closer. The Omega’s not sure if he meant to, yet he almost wants to regret half-lashing out now that he’s done it.

“I didn’t mean to,” Slade admits, voice coming out soft, eyes cast downwards and Oliver wants to think from the tone of his voice, he’s genuine.

“You… You still left _me_ though.”

Voice coming to a neutral tone, Oliver hopes that’s a less bitter way to seem. The urge to tear his eyes away from Slade is there too, yet he wants to see the Alpha’s face when he responds to him. See for himself that Slade’s undoubtedly telling the truth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” Slade forces out as if it’s a struggle for him to say.

“When?” Oliver presses, refraining from wanting to follow up with ‘because you’ve been doing a lot of that lately.’

Slade’s keeping to the shadows though the Omega can read from the atmosphere that they’re both probably uncomfortable with the current topic.

“Just… Just in general. Anytime, now, back on the freighter,” Slade lists off with notably pauses in between.

“I thought you were out to get me though,” Oliver exhales, wanting to avert his gaze across the room for something else to look at.

This was not a conversation he expected them to be happening. Maybe not ever, and not in this situation of all scenarios.

“I was… I didn’t realize I’d hurt you first though.”

Slade fidgets slightly, obviously unsure what to do with himself, Oliver’s eyes like a hawk’s piercing into him.

“I tried to kill you,” Oliver relinquishes.

No matter how much like self-defence, he still managed to jab out Slade’s eye and leave him for ‘dead’ in apparent ‘self-defence’. He shouldn’t have been able to do that but somehow he did. A part of him was violent and instinctual enough, even at that stage, to… almost go for the kill, or what he was certain was the kill back then.

That wasn’t self-defence, that wasn’t what friends did to one another, no matter how much Oliver might have wanted to think he was only protecting himself.

“Maybe I deserved it,” Slade concedes and Oliver immediately corrects him.

“Don’t be stupid! I’d hate myself even more if I did.”

If he hadn’t known Slade was alive. If he’d gotten a more definite sort of closure that Slade was indeed dead. Like a burial, as they’d done with Shado, Yao Fei, and his father.

Even if Slade was alive and trying to kill him, that was always better than dead. Right?

A pregnant pause falls over them again and at some point they both avert their eyes from one another, Oliver settling on looking at the textures of the sofa’s fabric next to him. It’s eerily quiet, not even the sounds of their own breaths filling the air and no matter how sort that period of time might have been, it was Slade who quickly broke the uneasy silence.

“I need to ask you something. Something only you would know.”

Oliver doesn’t remove his eyes from counting the indentations in the couch, though wonders if what the Alpha’s going to ask him is something completely out of left field.

He wasn’t going to say anything or respond, give only a silent nod of a yes, though forces himself to verbally respond anyway.

“What?”

“What was the last thing you said to me?”

Okay, well, that was left field.

“Just now?” Oliver queries, glancing upwards and wondering where Slade is going with this.

“No, back on the submarine. Before…”

_Before I died_ , are the unspoken words neither of them had to hear.

Oliver heavily exhales, not sure what to say back.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I need to know I’m not going insane.”

The Omega knows better than to think to ask Slade ‘why?’. The Mirakuru… though if they could both just blame everything on that… it was too easy. Likely untrue.

“Sara and Shado were both there too,” Oliver starts with, referring to how they too had both probably heard his words.

“I don’t care about that,” Slade shakes his head.

Oliver can feel his whole body tighten with tenseness, not just the heat either, as he barely has to think to remember what it was he said.

“I—I…”

He goes to start, then stops.

Then continues again when neither of them say anything.

“I told you, ‘I didn’t want you to die…, that’s why I pushed you away.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A doona is Australian English however it’s still the same as a duvet. Just like Slade says arse, rather than ass—Australian English.


	14. Enlightenment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the end notes if the schedule of updates matters to you and concerning _Before All That Passed_.

In the short span of time it takes Oliver to avert his gaze back to the couch—be it because of nervousness or awkwardness, he’s not sure—then gather up the willpower again to turn back. Re-meet the Alpha’s gaze—also uncertain as to the turmoil of emotions they’ll both find in one another—Slade’s just _there_.

In front of him again, swiftly bridging the gap in distance between them soundlessly, along with stepping into the greater light so Oliver can see the mixed feelings across his face.

He looked solemn by the Alpha’s standards, face lax and loose, devoid of any scowl or harshness the Omega would usually expect to see there.

No doubt his current expression didn’t look much better either, Oliver remaining where he was to see what it was the other might do. Scouting and anxiously anticipating the moment when one of them would actually _do_ _something_.

Not sure if Slade might lash out at him again and call him a liar like he had done back at Verdant. When Oliver had been the one to buckle and weaken, attempting to come clean about the truth of what really happened on Ivo’s freighter between them.

Or at least, what he thought had happened, as it’s apparent their opinions on the situation differ about it.

Though he never would have expected Slade to not remember in the first place either.

How he’d managed to hurt him and how then he—Oliver—had managed to go and fuck things up even more. When maybe, the reality was, he was just supposed to take whatever—pain, be it intentional or not—that Slade had in store for him, if he expected to ever receive the Alpha’s pleasure.

Maybe things could have turned out better that way.

Oliver wasn’t keen to think about the idea, but had he not near-on killed Slade, just tried more so to wade out the hurt—Alpha’s fingers like sharp daggers kneading into his sides, thighs, and hips—maybe Slade wouldn’t have ended up with his eye ripped out.

If only he’d been stronger… thinking about it still pangs him, so the Omega quickly tries to dispel that thought from his mind.

Where it possibly all went wrong. When it was such a momentous thing to begin with. One of the unfortunate things he’d come to most equate Slade to in the moments he’d despair and fallen into sorrow over times past.

Or maybe instead of his first lot of fears… Slade might storm out on him again like he did last time, needing more time to process what was going on. Not being able to handle it. Forfeit their conversation for another time and day when they could both get under each other’s skin again and eat away at one another some more.

Even if Oliver might relish the idea of some alone time right now, the Alpha running out on him would likely just lead to a repeat of last time between them. Only this time he wouldn’t have the luxury of his bow and arrow on hand to start attacking the walls with.

Instead, if it came down to that, he’d probably end up suffering in his own pain and lamentation, not unlike all those weeks ago, though this time with the added disadvantage of him feeling like ants were crawling all over his skin.

Oliver didn’t blame the Alpha for running out on him before, having had more than enough opportunities to weep and get over it himself. To the point where it was just another bad dream, invading his every nightly afterthoughts.

Yet there was nothing he could ever do about it because Slade was dead. He’d been the one to kill him, or at least get him killed.

Just like he had Sara, another watchful guardian who had ended up ‘dead’ because of him. At least with the Beta, her return from an unburied grave brought him more closure than confusion at least.

Slade was a whole nother story however, instead his revival trudging up unfamiliar waves of emotions within the Omega that he had thought put to bed years ago. Things that he was in no way ready to deal with back in The Glades. Things that seemed better to just avoid, until they would inevitably come bursting out of him like he is certain they are unintentionally doing now.

For a while, it seemed like trapping and ensnaring Slade, as killing him wasn’t an option, was the best—no, only—way to go about things.

He wouldn’t expect the Alpha to understand or know all the intrinsic details of Bonding, as it was usually just thought to be up to the Omega to not respond to the Alpha’s knotting—as the world was still a sexist place even in this day and age.

Oliver’s keenly aware however that Bonding has been known to harshly cripple and even kill people on the rare occasion. More so the heartbreak that it could bring, despite it not having to be under tremendous strain or distances in order to bring one such pain.

Even feeling like he had Slade under a leash and collar, he was still fairly sure he’d felt the pangs and twinges of the Bond that he tried to be so thoroughly tuned out to. Possibly some of his despairing over the past weeks could even be attributed to it.

It might have been a stupid idea in hindsight to let Slade fuck him right on heat, yet how else was he going to maintain his checkmate? Or, more so a stalemate for that matter.

Oliver shuffles his feet against the carpet in uneasy anticipation, noticing Slade not moving, yet also not making an attempt to reach out to him.

If Slade was going to look at running out on him again, then he’d better do it now, as he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen this side of the Alpha before. The vulnerability, the less scathed and smoother edges to the man’s visage he’d thought he’d only seen a true glimpse beyond of the once.

After Shado died and Slade disappeared for days.

Was Slade letting him see beyond his mask though? Beyond the cold, callous, the hate and the lies that seemed to be clouding both of their judgements? As they both had to be aware, that if they went on this way, they could never go back. There’d be nothing to go back to… once all these problems were resolved and they’d have to start anew.

If… they choose to go on from this at all.

Oliver swallows around the hard lump in his throat, not sure if he likes Slade closeness or not.

“Why’d you ask?”

Oliver is almost surprised to hear it is he who has spoken.

He almost wants to take back his words, wish that Slade hadn’t heard them, so as not to further pry about whatever seemingly ill-term effects the Mirakuru had on the Alpha. Potentially upset him when the last thing Oliver wanted to do was create more bad memories between the two of them.

Of course the side-effects existed though, even Ivo made out they did and was no stranger to them in his mad quest. Yet Oliver didn’t need to be constantly reminded of how he’s ruined Slade either.

Slade beats him to talking though and Oliver shuts his mouth before going to say anything more.

“I wanted to know that what you said, you really did.”

They both just look at it each other for a moment and Slade waits for the indication of Oliver going to make a response. Keeping his distance, knowing it best for both their sakes. The Omega possibly feeling threatened and although Slade would usually go to push the boundaries that Oliver had set for them wherever possible, this was one situation where he could not afford to step over them.

Lest the Omega actually get pissed off at him like he’d been uncertain if Oliver really was or wasn’t with him before. Or worse.

Oliver angry and crabby with him he could deal with. Oliver freaked out and fearful of him he could not. Not that the Omega now after the Purgatory the island had put him through was anything but lacking in a spine. Or at least had more so of one than Slade had ever remembered.

Although the Omega wasn’t open about his discomfort either, he knows from the way Oliver flinched under his continuous touches below Verdant weeks ago that it was _also_ something they had to talk about. Possibly not an overly consistent thing for Oliver, or at least not something the Omega was consciously aware of that he was doing. As when Oliver was keen to get into bed with him, he didn’t stray at all from his touches.

Relished and arched up into them, not like he was planning or trying not to freak out or anything. Even now, Oliver didn’t reject his quickly thought out kiss or pull away from the fingers he’d linked up into the Omega’s hair to try and better persuade his closeness.

That gave Slade some hope that maybe… whatever he’d done hadn’t been anything _too_ bad. Oliver still seemed to be functionable around him… most of the time, so maybe making amends with the other wouldn’t be as hard as his mind always played it out to be.

The few memories he does have of after rescuing Oliver on the Amazo are in short: not good. In long… well, they were just literal nightmares, so he could never be sure what had really happened from them.

What had happened to cause Oliver to—or even think he needed to—gouge out his right eye when things had been going so well.

Or so he’d thought.

At least well enough after the point of him hightailing his arse onto Ivo’s freighter and finding Oliver wasn’t as good as dead and that he hadn’t failed yet another important person in his life.

Things had seemed to have been going perfectly there onwards though.

As the Omega had finally given him the chance to prove himself, prove that he was worthy of the Omega that seemed to shy away from all Alphas on the island—granted that was probably the smartest thing for him to do. But would begrudgingly allow _him_ to protect and watch over Oliver when he was at his moment vulnerable—in heat.

That was definitely a heady thing indeed, and although it might have seemed primal of him to eventually want to give it a go, of stating his claim… How else was he supposed to definitively prove that he was the better, stronger, most viable Alpha for the Omega?

And then… he’d gone and ruined for himself.

Maybe the one and only chance he had that he’d forged away at for months. The trust he had to gain, the amount of perseverance it took… all gone, all for nil. Ruined not only for himself, but also for Oliver, whom he’d never thought to realize he could have hurt like that.

Slade still doesn’t know from his foggy memories what exactly it was that he did, though maybe now, Oliver’s giving him the opportunity to try and reforge their broken bonds. A second chance.

He couldn’t waste that chance, not again.

He could be better this time, better for Oliver.

Hence, if he wanted to have any chance of fixing things between them, he had to keep his distances, take things slowly.

Not pry too hard or too quickly, to try and get Oliver to open up to him so they could have a logical conversation, that didn’t end in swords and arrows. The former was equally difficult in its own right—without having to worry about them ending up with knives at each other’s throats—as it also meant having to meet the Omega half-way, trying to come clean himself.

Slade wasn’t good at all the feelings and mushy-mushy stuff Omegas usually went on about and were usually so good at expressing. Neither was Oliver, the not-so-typical Omega bordering on heat—that he did _not_ need to be reminded of. Despite how faint and almost _odd_ the Omega’s scent was compared to what he was used to it being.

He still had to keep his distance though—physically—despite the need and want to do otherwise. He had to gauge and maintain the space between them so as to keep Oliver comfortable around him. Yet, he also has to push and pry for the Omega’s sympathies as well, if he wanted to get anywhere.

“How’d that work out for you?” Slade comes out with, voice sounding apologetic.

Blinking, the Omega’s not sure what the other means at first, though catches on quickly enough, not wanting the silence and tension between them to last any longer than it already had.

Slade was asking him how keeping him at arm’s length had worked out for Oliver—or for both of them really—as Slade still ended up ‘dying’ and look at the situation they had ended up in. Half at each other’s throats every other encounter.

Though whether the former came down to being the route of their problem likely couldn’t be determined, too far in the past and too much having gone on since then, that one single issue probably couldn’t be highlighted.

“It didn’t. Badly. Not at all in either of our favours,” Oliver recites, not quite able to stop himself after the first words leave his mouth.

Slade doesn’t respond in either agreement or disagreement.

“I should have kept you attached at the hip. Or at least kept a shorter leash on you.”

Oliver meets Slade’s eyes, surprised at the lack of aggression or dominance in his expression and voice. The Alpha seemed solemn all over and Oliver didn’t know how to respond, other than to just let the first thing he thought of spill out his mouth.

“Why didn’t you then?” Oliver asks, immediately beginning to wonder why the Alpha didn’t, or at least more consistently so.

The first time he’d went into heat on the island around Slade, the Alpha had tied him to a chair and wanted to gag him to shut up his whines of pain and small mewls.

Slade is quick to respond though, and not with an answer Oliver would have expected.

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed that. Neither would I.”

Oliver almost wants to call bullshit on the last part yet Slade’s overturned expression seems to plead with him the Alpha’s sincerity. His own conscious still ends up belittling and torturing him however, affecting his would-be response.

“Maybe you should have. Might have saved you from getting your face half-blown off,” Oliver stares down at his feet near the end, voice no doubt noticeably full of guilt.

Slade obviously queues into him putting himself down as his response slightly steers their conversation away, back more so at him.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

Oliver doesn’t have to think to know what the Alpha’s talking about, not even sure how Slade can think the former was _not_ his fault.

“Yes it was. If it wasn’t for me…”

Oliver doesn’t know why it happens but it’s like, at that moment, his resistance snaps. His control wavers, and maybe it’s because he’s a hormonal, emotional Omega—wow, he does not like admitting that, even in his head—already on edge by the Alpha in his presence, but it’s like his bottled up emotions come bursting out of him when he’s at his most vulnerable.

Panged by pain throughout his gut and body, mind unsure as to how to handle Slade, even without his unfortunate predicament.

He wants to sink into the floor and disappear though any chance of escape he had, had to be done past Slade, who was gingerly blocking his path and keeping him cornered. As if to keep him speaking and force him to open up even though Slade was one of the last people he wanted to do that with. Despite the time and experiences they might have shared together.

He’s trying to avert his gaze over the Alpha’s shoulder at the space behind him when Slade starts rebutting him. Given the situation maybe Oliver should find that surprising yet isn’t in the right mind-frame to notice or even really want to consider a word the Alpha is saying when he’s too busy trying to stare at the space behind the older man.

“That was _my_ choice. You can’t blame my actions on yourself because you weren’t going to stop me from trying to save your arse just because you fobbed me off every other day of the week and would never sit still—”

“—It was my fault though! If I hadn’t ran after Shado when Ivo’s men were raining hellfire down on the plane, you wouldn’t have had to come after me!”

Oliver isn’t aware of it immediately but he’s snaking his arms around his torso as if reliving the nightmares of the island that had been permanently etched into him.

Hands settling on his cheeks jerk him back to awareness though as Slade softly forces him to look the older man in the eyes. Meeting the dark of the Alpha’s eyes and being unable to read much more there than Slade being not completely pissed off at him or anything of the sort.

It’d been a long time since Oliver was able to accurately read Slade and he’s not sure if he should even try anymore. Uneasy of what emotions he might find in the older man, perhaps, even in himself.

“It’s not your fucking fault. You don’t think I know that? I wasn’t going to let you go and get yourself killed just because you were stupid and off trying to play the hero. And I don’t regret that. ‘Wouldn’t have been able to live with myself otherwise if I didn’t at least try and stop you…”

Oliver’s breathing hitches and he forgets to struggle away from Slade, the almost hint of emotion in the Alpha’s voice stopping him.

“B-But… But it’s my fault you’re like this now. It’s my fault Shado died.”

Oliver is almost certain he misses a rolling of eyes on Slade’s part as if the Alpha thinks he’s being stupid yet neither of them seem to comment on it. Maybe Slade doesn’t understand which part of ‘ruining’ the older man he’s referring to though still sees it necessary to try and shut him down regardless.

“It’s not your fault I’m like this,” Slade exhales as if choosing his words carefully and Oliver wants to take that as a sigh.

Slade not knowing what to say and Oliver taking that as the Alpha admitting defeat. The Omega shakes his head even as the older man’s fingers are still linked up into what they can manage of his hair, keeping him from fleeing.

“Yes… it is. I pushed you to this. I pushed you away. You even wanted to hear me say it…”

The Alpha glances down at the floor for a moment, moving his head sideways in a manner similar to what Oliver had just done previously, not letting the Omega go through Oliver not seeming to try and break away either.

“That’s not why I wanted to hear you to say it—”

Roughly shrugging out from beneath the Alpha’s grasp, Oliver goes to raise his voice even as Slade doesn’t try to reach out to him again. He keeps his arms around his midsection though as if to deter the idea of Slade putting hands on him again.

“Then why! Do you want to make me feel like shit because you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

It’s not a question, they both know that, and Oliver is border-line lashing out again.

Slade keeps his distance, barely moving, arms by his side. He might have almost looked awkward as Oliver glances away from glaring piercing daggers at the older man.

 _Oh shit_ , Slade thinks to himself, knowing he must have really hurt the younger man for him to almost just start breaking down on him like this.

What’s he done this time though? He was certain he hadn’t said anything too hurtful as he was trying so hard to be intrinsically aware not too.

“Are you alright?” Slade asks, somewhat perturbed by the seemingly rapid change in the Omega’s attitude as he really wanted to believe he hadn’t done anything.

It wasn’t like Oliver to get overly emotional and show his feelings—those times on the island aside when the Omega hadn’t nearly been as honed at concealing or being indifferent to his feelings as he seemed to be now. Despite how Oliver was ‘supposed’ to be an Omega, he didn’t fit the typical description of how they were usually displayed either.

Vulnerable and hands-on about his feelings, Oliver was not.

The Omega doesn’t respond, despite them barely being a foot away from one another and it was obvious Oliver had to have heard him. Slade opens his mouth again to speak, not sure what to say though knowing the Omega was possibly going to continually act like he was ignoring him all the same.

“Look I’m… sorry if I hurt you before. I’m _trying_ not to now.”

Glaring back at Slade from where Oliver’s averted his gaze, the Omega doesn’t know whether to feel angered or placated by the Alpha seeming to maintain his calm and cool. It makes it more difficult to want to yell at him though. Make him hurt like the Omega feels he is right now.

Jesus Christ he’s feeling weirdly emotional…

Maybe it was just Slade making him uptight yet he still wants to rip into the Alpha. Get back at him for all the shit he’s caused and wanting to ruin his life in the first place. Well, way to go Slade. A still mostly rationale part of him wants to whisper ‘that an eye for an eye just made the whole world blind’ yet Oliver’s toned out to his higher brain’s logic.

“Now? Why now then? Why the change?” Oliver half-seethes, unsure as to why only now has Slade decided to stop being a dickhead and wants to have a reasonable conversation with him.

Slade runs a hair through his hair, having barely moved from the spot, just taking Oliver’s abuse in spite of how his Alpha dominance might be rearing up inside of him to smack that Omega down.

Modern society apparently now abhorred to such traditions but Slade was well aware that most Alphas weren’t above putting Omegas in their place, even if they might have been in the wrong doing so.

He wonders if he’s as visually struggling to remain placid as he feels he is. He should deserve a medal for how calm he’s managing to be… yet also knows he probably deserves Oliver’s abuse and nothing short of hatred for what he’s done.

That may never go away.

 _Dammit_ , this feelings shit was so hard.

“I’m not always myself,” Slade sighs, knowing it might sound like he’s trying to dance around the subject.

The Alpha hears Oliver snort as if he doesn’t believe him, the Omega still turned sideways away from him though the deep exhale Oliver makes as if going to talk gives Slade some hope that he actually will.

A moment passes.

“Go on,” is all Oliver says, not giving any other indication that he’s noticed Slade.

Having Oliver acknowledge him to go on is just as unnerving as having the Omega not say anything at all. Everything Slade says afterwards is more painful than what he’s already had to say.

“Back on Ivo’s freighter, after…” Slade trails off, not sure how to say it though apparently Oliver does.

“After I stabbed you in the head?”

The younger man’s voice comes out devoid of much emotion and Slade knows he has to go on if he’s expecting to get anything out of Oliver other than by way of force. The latter of which he did not.

“I still dunno what happened back then,” Slade huffs, feeling himself grow fidgety, knowing no doubt Oliver is analysing over every word he says to determine whether or not he believes him, “there are a lot of things I don’t remember.”

Slade goes to pause, struggling with just the thought of some of these things though of course Oliver goes to push him onwards.

“Like what?”

The Alpha can’t be sure whether Oliver’s being a little shit or genuinely doesn’t know about the gaps in his memory, but doesn’t want to try and argue the point either. Not when he’s gotten this far without blowing it and the Omega seeming somewhat willing to listen.

Slade just decides to go for the obvious and put it out there.

“What’d I do?”

Blinking, Oliver turns around to face him, looking like the older man’s got his attention at last.

“What’d you do, what?” Oliver repeats back to the Alpha as if he doesn’t get it.

‘When’ might have been the better question to ask but Slade decides to satisfy the Omega’s curiosity anyway, hoping he’s making the right choices on the way to _hopefully_ amending their relationship.

“Back on the boat… Ivo’s freighter… what’d _I_ do?” Slade forces himself to say again, refraining from adding in the bits like ‘why’d you stab me and leave me for dead’.

Oliver makes a face like ‘what?’, then pulls his arms out from around his midsection and drags his hands down his face before turning to face Slade. His mask is back in place but they both know he’s still on edge.

“You _really_ don’t know now, do you?” Oliver repeats his words from weeks ago, he last said back below Verdant, “I thought I told you back at the club.”

Slade almost goes to mimic the gesture that Oliver’s just made, equally in distress, but decides against it as he doesn’t want to seem like he’s not taking this seriously. Part of him doesn’t want to hear what he knows he has to but no need to act like a dick either as he knows this must be hard for Oliver too. This opening up ‘thing’.

“I’d rather hear it from you.”

Even though last time Oliver had been the one to tell him, Slade would rather hear it again and take that as the truth rather than the short explanation the Omega had given him last time. Preferably without both of the bullshit on their parts too, clogging up the recount.

“I’ll talk, but then you have to,” Oliver says, throwing down the ultimatum, otherwise their conversation might not go anywhere near as smooth as wanted.

If they couldn’t come to some sort of an agreement.

“Whatever you want to hear,” Slade yields, knowing this was one situation where his Alpha attitude wasn’t going to do him any good.

“It doesn’t matter what I want to hear, you tell me the truth,” Oliver reaffirms.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Slade is almost sure he’s going to immediately regret saying that but makes sure to follow up with, “just whatever you wanna hear, _let’s talk_.”

Oliver shakes his head at him disapprovingly.

“You don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not, I swear. I haven’t lied to you,” the Alpha almost pleads, surprised at his words and how they’d just about run away from him then.

“You just haven’t entirely told the truth,” Oliver rolls his eyes whilst crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Me? What about you?” Slade can’t help but seethe whilst the Omega’s having a go at him, “You’re not exactly the most truthful person to try and have a conversation with either.”

They’re not exactly shouting at each other, mostly because they can’t because of the noise they’ll cause, but they’re certainly not exactly having a friendly conversation either. Oliver’s response seems to reinforce this.

“What have I done? I tried to tell you the truth weeks ago but you were having none of it.”

“Y-You—” Slade only manages to come out with, before realizing he was going to argue and cuts himself off prior to starting, knowing he was just asking to start a bigger fight.

Were they really going to make this a repeat of their last few encounters, after the progress they’d made and how much farther they’d came today—well, tonight—than any other time, with regards to dishing out their emotions about how they felt? He hadn’t come here to tear Oliver a new one, which bringing up all the less-than-admirable thing sthe Omega had done, would probably do just that.

In no way, shape or form was that the response he was hoping to generate.

As Oliver’s elder by at least half a dozen years, maybe he should _try_ to be the more mature one here. Talking to Oliver was somewhat like trying to communicate with a brick wall though.

The Omega’s hadn’t completely turned away from him at least—which was a good sign—no doubt waiting on for his response.

“Okay, maybe you did,” Slade starts with, hoping to appease the Omega, “I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say and for that I’m sorry. Sorry I ran out on you because I didn’t mean to make you feel like an arsehole—if I did, which I’m assuming I did—when _I_ was the one whocouldn’t handle it. You were ready to talk and I just came there to have an argument ‘cause I was pissed off with you.”

Oliver remains silent through Slade’s explanation, not giving any indication to continue or stop as the Alpha pauses to collect his thoughts and catch his breath.

“Okay, maybe you weren’t very happy with me either but that was my fault in the first place. You came round and were ready to talk, or at least over arguing, but I wasn’t ready to accept anything else… Anything else that didn’t involve you having stabbed me in the head for seemingly no reason. I was sure you hated me or something, that had to be it, I couldn’t comprehend any other reason for why you’d do something like that.

Why you’d try and kill me, leave me for dead, all alone in that hellhole of a place.”

Slade stops for a moment, watching Oliver process what he’s said but it was apparent that the Omega wasn’t going to let slip any emotions from behind his carefully crafted mask that obviously came to be sometime in the many years they hadn’t seen each other.

“I couldn’t accept the fact that I could have done something so bad to make you hate me and just about damn near kill me,” Slade summarises quickly, trying his hardest to get the words out whilst he was still willing to and wasn’t feeling like every word he spoke would surely cut him to pieces.

A moment passes, and then another, more moonlight trickling in through the window then before. Signalling they’d been at it for a while and it was likely approaching an hour or so past since Slade decided to sneak into the Omega’s home. Only the small sounds of Oliver breathing filled the air as he thought up a response to say.

“I don’t hate you,” Oliver admits though knowing what could have given off that idea, “I never did.”

“You don’t?” Slade queries.

“No. Do you hate me?” Oliver poses the same question.

Slade looks weird being under assault of the same question though is quick to fess up.

“No…” Slade averts his gaze to the floor before going on, “I thought I did but my hatred was misplaced and for all the wrong reasons. It just kind of died off and I couldn’t feel that way anymore after coming to know the truth about what had happened. That’s part of the reason it took so long for me to come to do this. I had to get my feelings and shit together. About you.”

Oliver seems okay with his response as the Omega moves from his spot, where he’d taken up standing like a deer caught in headlights, to only a foot away from the Alpha.

“Okay, we can talk, but for now can we stop acting like you’re holding me at gunpoint or something? I’m cramping like hell and don’t think I can handle standing in the cold for much longer like this.”

Even though Oliver’s pain tolerance was likely greater than the average person’s from all the physical torture he’d had to endure over the years, after a while of being continuously wracked by his heat, he too could get worn out.

Slade stares at him for a moment as if dumbfounded by his request and the casual manner of it as opposed to the rest of their conversation. He’s sure if he was wearing a tie or more of a shirt than the one for sleeping he was in, Oliver would have yanked him by his clothing.

“You could have said something before, I’m not keeping you here,” Slade says.

“Well, I can’t exactly kick you out now can I?” Oliver adds, moving away from the Alpha back into the comfort and less draughty areas of his room.

His stomach was driving him crazy and he was sure he could almost go for a hurl, cold weather and the combined heat of his fever not mixing well together yet hopefully that didn’t show on his expression.

Not really caring, Oliver flops face down onto the left side of his king-sized bed. His preferred side of sleeping on since coming back from the island. It being the farthest side from the door and where any potential threats might come from.

He’d kicked back all the sheets upon jumping out from it earlier, yet isn’t really bothered by the lack of it now with his bodily temperature acting up and all over the place.

“Are you coming?” Oliver calls out as if to the open, not lifting his face too far from the pillow he’s just sunken it into.

Screw looking vulnerable and weak, he’s shitty, in pain and Slade picked the wrong time to show up at his house.

“You were the one who seemed to be favouring the bed in the first place,” Oliver follows up with, peering out of the corner of his eyes and waiting for the sinking of the mattress beside him.

“Fine.”

He gets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding _Before All That Passed _… Originally I took up the prequel/side-story of sorts to _Reap What You Sow _as an attempt to help me break through my main story here though the existence of BATP has kind of been rendered useless in the process. The things I wanted to cover in BATP will likely end up being covered here and I’d rather just do it the once where I imagine everyone will see it.____
> 
> __BATP is being marked as discontinued as I don’t intend on finishing it though I’d be happy to appease anyone’s desire for flashbacks here in the main story._ _


	15. Truths and Lies

Oliver ponders over his thoughts, amongst the churning nausea also starting to fill his head and possibly starting to cloud his judgement. His body sears in intensity somewhere between too hot and too cold, yet not settling at a neutral temperature either.

Over the years of getting used to stab wounds and bruises like they were just something he had to live with every day, he would have thought a little bi-monthly heat would have been nothing. Obviously not though as the pain was something entirely else and Oliver finds himself hissing under his breath. Hopefully too low for even Slade to hear.

He’s likely near midway in through his heat— judging it’s only going to last an eight hour period like usual—which he’s not sure he trusts his body anymore to do so as he was also sure he did _not_ go monthly. Which the average Omega female might have, but he did not, not now, not ever! Or at least he’d plead with his body that way despite how fruitless his attempts were in doing so.

He felt more so betrayed than ever by his biology because even though Oliver saw this coming a mile away the moment his gut started cramping, tying itself in knots—and _wow, that is not muscular pain at all_. He’d regrettably retired early from his Arrow duties, annoyed and displeased to be dropping himself into bed at barely ten.

Last time he’d ventured out close on heat though, the results were slightly disastrous and he’d never willingly succumb himself to another situation like that again.

Indoors for the night it was, where he’d hopefully avoid getting molested but then Slade decided to show up and that ruined all comfort of that notion in his mind. Although the Alpha was acting… oddly civil and that might have been just as unsettling.

Still, either Slade was somehow managing to tip off his biological cycle—maybe he’s just being paranoid, but if the Omega found out he was doing this, he’d just about want to kill him. Or _apparently_ , as a “Bonded” Omega his body didn’t intend to stick to its pre-set norm.

 _Dammit_ , this was obviously one factor in the equation he forgot to think about when it came to one-upping Slade—the potential backlash.

Should he even be keeping, well, allowing, Slade to be around him right now?

This is about the point where Oliver would just try and _hopefully_ fall asleep, sleep off the rest of his bodily torment, but he wouldn’t trust the Alpha to not come and molest him either. Slade had shown admirable in his restraint around him before—and still appeared to be doing so—but the last time anyone of them had slipped up had shown vast consequences for both of them.

Oliver might be past any mental scarring that period of his life had left on him but he had a scar on left hip that couldn’t be forgotten and wouldn’t disappear as easily. Or at all really.

A spasm jolting through his body pulls the Omega from his thoughts—hopefully not an overly visible one, Oliver wishes—and he can feel his stomach lurch in what has to be disapproval.

What when he has an Alpha lurking about in his room and he’s shown before that he’s not above using them if it has the potential to relieve this maelstrom gripping him.

Oliver might be able to trust or at least accept Slade being around him right now, but he’s not sure if he can extend that same trust to himself.

Involuntarily starting to twitch, he can smell the remnants of Slade’s scent from where the Alpha had smothered it all into his sheets. It was all too distracting, amongst the pain also wracking his body, and reminded him of the days back on the island where he had to deal with the constant assault of Alpha scents on his nose and the intimidation brought on therein from the lack of  Beta spray acting as a buffer to it.

He wasn’t sure if Slade so much daunted him anymore so much as he ticked him off and for that reason the Omega wasn’t about to stay quiet about it.

“Why’d you have to go and scent all of my belongings?” Oliver accuses the moment he feels a dip in the bed beside him.

Undoubtedly Slade had done elsewhere too and over the rest of his things to possibly piss him off though that seemed the opposite of the Alpha’s game now.

Oliver had a hard enough time scrubbing his skin near on raw to try and feel like he didn’t have Slade breathing down his neck constantly, let alone when he actually did and Slade didn’t seem to be assisting that factor.

Oliver might not feel up to much talking at the moment, content with seeming like… whatever he and Slade had going on, they’d gotten down to the core of it in their past conversation, but he sure as hell wasn’t pasted wanting to argue a point yet. Especially with Slade around and it was the Alpha’s fault he’d picked the wrong time to show up in his house, not his. Or in his house at all for that matter.

Peaking an eye open from where the Omega’s trying to fight off an on setting headache, he can’t help but growl and retract backwards, into himself watching Slade _very_ attentively settling himself on the bed less than a metre or so away from him.

He looked like he was trying to settle himself on a mattress of glass with all the precision and time the Alpha was taking, finally pulling his feet up off the floor after what seemed like an eerily long period of time.

Oliver would scuffle himself backwards even more but his toes are already edging off the side of the bed and he doesn’t need to make himself look anymore stupid than he already has by falling off it.

Despite not being an Alpha—no matter how much he and his father might have wished otherwise—he was still going to be defensive, not so much territorial like an Alpha, but defensive of the places he called home with an unknown Alpha lurking about.

It was the same case with Walter, when Oliver became aware his mother had permanently brought him into the house, nest, den, whatever you want to called it or if you were old-fashioned. So at least Slade couldn’t claim he was biased.

He’s sure the pitch of his growl deepens once he’s certain Slade’s done his shuffling about and making himself comfortable on _his_ bed and that he also wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. King-sized bed or no king-sized bed, there was far too little space between them in that moment and Oliver is sure Slade knows it with his short show of aggression.

“Alright, alright. No need to get a knot in your panties,” Slade jokes.

Propping his head up with an elbow and dropping onto his side so that he and Oliver are level-headed and forced face-to-face, or at least for the moment.

Oliver obviously doesn’t seem to appreciate his joke or attempt at a light-hearted moment as he’s ripping into him almost immediately for it.

 _Ooh,_ Slade can’t help but muse, _he’s growling now._

Has Oliver ever growled at him before?

If so, not like this and to the point where Slade might also think the Omega would bite his head off. If he wasn’t starting to sweat, again, coiled in on himself and smelling like sex, Slade might almost say he looked threatening. Almost. He’s had worse things to deal with in his life than pissy, hormonal Omegas. Though Oliver around that time of the month was up there with those experiences.

His pheromones—bloody aphrodisiacs at that—were strong, though still a distinct “no” at that. Slade needed a clear “yes” if he wanted to do anything.

Even when Oliver’s body was flooded with hormones he still managed to give off otherwise mixed and vague signals which were difficult to interpret. Slade’s brain and experiences told him one thing but his nose told him another. It didn’t help either that his gut instinct and heart thought other things either, which might have made him more susceptible to making hasty decisions.

Like, it might seem stupid, him poking around Oliver trying to a rise, but it was also the easiest way for him to make sense of his bearings here.

Making fun of Oliver it was.

Oliver’s threatening demeanour dies off fairly fast yet, and Slade’s left wondering what could have caused that as the Omega falls silent.

Slade’s braced for the moment Oliver goes to launch himself onto him, knowing it won’t do the Omega any good either way, thinking Oliver might be giving him the silent treatment. Letting him feel like he was safe. Oliver just remains twitching slightly from the fingers and toes as if uncontrollably irritated though. Or no doubt the spasms wracking his body weren’t of his own accord.

Getting a rise out of Oliver was usually relatively easy even when he wasn’t already on edge, but drop the Omega card and Oliver would just about rip your head off. This was… different then.

“What, no rise? I was expecting a rise.”

Slade cocks his head to one side, not sure about the lack of the usual fire in Oliver’s attitude.

Had he hurt the Omega’s feelings?

“I’m tired,” Oliver only offered, turning his head down into the pillow as if to emphasize the point.

“Tired of me, or just in general?” Slade pries, not satisfied with the Omega’s answer.

He’s expecting sarcasm in return but is pleasantly surprised when he gets an actual response.

“Tired as in I’ve only had two hours sleep but you’re starting to tick me off as well.”

“Am I now?” Slade muses, “You wanna talk about it?”

Backing off is obviously the wise decision to Slade if didn’t want to further incur Oliver’s wrath but… At least he’s got him looking like he’ll talk to him again. The skiting around each other had long since become tiresome and the Alpha is just about itching to get Oliver’s side of the story on everything that went wrong between them.

He might even be able to sleep a little bit better at night knowing that.

“I’d prefer it if you shut up,” Oliver huffs though there’s a noticeable lack of venom in his voice.

Slade takes this as a better sign than Oliver not saying anything.

“’Lemme make it up to you then. Do you wanna talk and I’ll listen?” Slade queries, knowing he has to be careful with his choice of words but not wanting to lose the progress he’s made with Oliver either.

Getting to this stage was hard enough, let alone staying there.

Shifting slightly, the Omega opens his eyes from where he’s lightly dozing, giving Slade a look somewhere between a glare and an expression of surprise.

“I feel like there are ulterior motives here…” Oliver states, “Give me one good reason to let you stay and hang around me then.”

Oliver’s gaze is a piercing stare into Slade but the appearance is short-lived before the Omega is grumbling and complaining about the apparent pain he’s in again.

A hint of a smile pulls at Slade’s lips, knowing that despite the suffering that Oliver was in the Omega was likely going to keep his guard up around him.

They’d see about that…

“Well, I’m the only one that can put you out of your misery right now, hmm?” Slade muses, having thought up a good answer to Oliver’s question.

Though one that would get him in trouble as well.

Hissing in response, Oliver furrows his brow.

“I knew it. I knew you’d say that!”

“Then you walked right into that, didn’t you?” Slade chuckles, voice husky but lighter than Oliver was used to hearing it in recent times.

 _This is alright_ , Slade thinks to himself quietly, _nice even._

Oliver shudders though, enough for the motion to be noticeable, like a draft’s just pasted over him, and although he barely moves Slade catches onto it.

 _Jesus_ , he was going to be like this all night if Slade didn’t do something. Leaving Oliver alone to writhe in pain didn’t bode well with the Alpha, never did, as he watches the Omega scrunch his eyes shut likely fighting off waves of queasiness.

“Don’t touch me,” Oliver half-screeches more than anything when he feels a hand on his forehead.

It catches him off guard though there’s not much more he can do about it other than complain as Slade keeps his hand pressed on his hand. Even when Oliver builds up the willpower to want to move his arms, digging his blunt nails into Slade’s forearm, he doesn’t get the intended reaction he would have liked. Of the Alpha retracting back away from him.

God, he’s weak and pathetic sometimes as Slade’s swiftly pulling his claws out of him with no visual discomfort or mars left on his skin.

“You’re running a temperature,” Slade comments, finally moving his goddamn hand away from Oliver’s face and allowing him to feel like he can relax again.

“You think,” Oliver huffs.

He gives one last attempt at pushing Slade away with his hand before just becoming content when the Alpha settles down on the bed nowhere near as close to him again. He was losing the energy to fight and want to stay awake rapidly, eyes fluttering shut on him.

There was a reason Omegas tried to get themselves knotted sooner rather than later and while being faced with a potential solution to his problem, Oliver doesn’t want running off to Alphas to become his game plan for dealing with his heats.

Or rather, pawning himself off onto Slade in this situation.

Maybe the suppressants really weren’t helping his situation either…

Oliver hears more than he sees Slade shift beside him once more. Instinctively that makes him want to run but a warmth is blanketed over him and the Omega shakes himself back to awareness to find Slade pulling a sheet up over his shoulder.

_What…?_

“You’ll freeze your arse off by morning if you don’t sleep with even just a very light sheet on.”

Oliver makes a low sound of… disbelief, maybe, not expecting that answer but has his knees and arms pulled into himself all the same to try and conserve warmth. It made sense… even with a sheet over him he still felt sweltering however, like it was hardly winter. He still makes a sound of disapproval though, not knowing whether or not he can trust Slade.

“Where’d you learn that?” Oliver queries, giving a dry laugh, referring to how Slade knew he’d be worse off _not_ sleeping with any covers on.

“They teach you that in the army along with marking what’s clearly not your territory?”

Oliver’s certain that’s a scowl Slade gives him as they just look at each other. The Alpha never did give him a straight answer about why he’d scented all of his belongings, so while they’re on the subject of being truthful with one another, now might be the time to give him another jab about it.

“You’re still so touchy about that, aren’t you? I’d almost think you liked having me fondle all of your things. Was ASIS, not army, by the way” Slade snorts, “And no, I learnt that watching your arse.”

Oliver feels his cheeks heat up in surprise, more so then the rest of him as he actually noticed it. _Crap_ , is he blushing? Why is he blushing? He’s so confused about his emotions regarding Slade, more so actually when he’s around Slade, that it’s like he weakens at the mention of better times and places.

A time where the most he had to worry about was survival and the prospect of getting raped by Alphas. Not whether or not Slade was a psychotic murder intent on taking everything away from him. Why does he even care though…?

 _Because you pushed him to this_ , a part of the Omega whispers and guilt-trips him over with.

He can feel Slade’s dark eyes still boring into him, waiting, and Oliver just lets the first thing he can think of fall out of his mouth. Not trusting himself to be able to come up with anything of logic or relative in context. Can’t look weak either though so he better let Slade know he’s still unhappy about the whole scenting business.

“Same thing,” Oliver grumbles, shoving his face down further into the sheets.

He’s starting to feel the cold now. It doesn’t help either that it emphasises how noticeable the hot fluid is trickling out of him, gliding down his thighs and wetting the seat of his sweatpants. His face wants to mould into pure discomfort and disgust with himself but doing so would no doubt alert Slade of… his situation.

It’s bad enough already as it is, but best he keep talking lest the Alpha notice what’s up with him and start prying to get in his pants again.

But maybe he’d liked that…

 _NO,_ Oliver mentally slaps himself.

Fuck though… he’d really relish the idea of being alone right now so he could get himself off. Nothing wrong with that, just some good old-fashioned—

—Oliver has to cut his thought process off as he realizes he’s got his eyes screwed shut and his breathing has grown heavy, almost hyperventilation-like. Snapping his eyes open, the Omega does it just in time to catch Slade giving him a raised eyebrow.

“Didn’t think you noticed that,” Oliver blurts out, hoping it’s tasteful and his sentence isn’t as rushed as he hears it to be.

Oliver referring to how he wasn’t sure Slade paid any attention to how he felt in heat. Other than being wary of how close to being totally ‘on’ he was and how potent his scent and involuntary ‘whining’—as the Alpha called it—were going to be to their other, less hospitable ‘neighbours’ on the island.

“Considered you went and scented all of my things when you know how much I hate that!”

Okay, that might be a lie but Oliver makes sure to give Slade a light growl to show the distrust still between them. How he wasn’t ready to let that go just yet, unless he wanted repeats of Helena, Tommy and _nearly_ even his co-worker Isabel—some of his lesser moments in life—happening again.

Slade shifts on the bed slightly—the mattress not even so much as creaking from being kept in such good condition over the years, even as Oliver wasn’t there—grinning madly from ear to ear.

“Now, you’re just being feisty. But don’t worry, I like ‘em feisty,” Slade purrs.

“And you’re just avoiding the question!” Oliver shoots back, though without a particular amount of fire.

Slade’s tempted to tell Oliver he gave him an accusation not a question but decides against it as the Omega shivers under his sheets. Maybe Slade should pull up the doona as well but Oliver rarely admits to wanting help when he actually needs it.

“Alright, you want the truth” Slade goes to placate, before throwing caution to the wind, “I went and fondled all of your things for the same reason you went and molested all of mine.”

A vein might have throbbed in the Omega’s head, before he grew flustered and mentally scrambled to defend himself.

He reminded Slade of an echidna, though it’d been a long time since he’d seen one of those mammals. All small and pathetic but with coarse hair and spines you’d have to navigate if you ever wanted to pat the bloody thing. Which to be fair, you didn’t as it would prick you.

“Y-You… I did not!”

“Yes, you did,” Slade chimes back, not at all on edge, unlike the Omega.

Further propping his head up on the two pillows Oliver has conveniently on both sides of the bed, Slade watches Oliver look like he wants to sink into himself and disappear.

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Now you’re just admitting it.”

The Omega must concede defeat as Oliver promptly rolls over, turning his back on Slade. Slade refrains from laughing at Oliver’s show of stroppy childishness.

He never did really change in that regard.

“Come on, just talk to me,” Slade coaxes, though not moving from his spot.

“How about… ‘you’re a dick and go away.”

That time Slade really does nearly laugh, boring dark eyes into the back of the Omega, waiting for the moment he would no doubt crack and stop being so uptight.

“You’re talking about dicks an awful lot there, Oliver.”

Slade’s swiftly fixed Oliver as the Omega hisses, turns back around to face him and glares back daggers at the Alpha.

“Are you just trying to annoy me at this stage?” Oliver snarls, but the effect is mostly lost in between his shudders and spasms of pain.

“Are you really that bothered that I went and scented all of you room?”

“Yes!”

Oliver practically shouts at him but quietens down afterwards as although their small talk is accompanied by not much more than silence, they weren’t entirely alone either. At least Slade admitted to scented more than the bed though, that way Oliver knows to empty cans and bottles of Beta sprays over the entire room when he gets the chance.

“Well it’s not my fault your room smells like a sterile gas chamber,” Slade just shakes his head, referring to how everything in Oliver’s room was either smothered with Beta colognes or had no hope of ever smelling like a real Omega.

“How the hell do you live like this?”

Slade couldn’t imagine living without the simple comfort of smells and scents that coloured Alphas and Omegas daily lives. Not so much Betas, as they had hardly any sense of smell about them, but for any other dynamic, smell could be argued as their most valuable sense.

It was how they determined a lot of things, such as danger, home, potential mates, hormone levels particularly in the Omega and when they’d go into heat. Omegas arguably had the best olfactory system out of all of them. They kind of had to, being more of a flight than fight animal, whereas Oliver seemed anything but about flight now.

It seemed detrimental to Slade at least, for an Omega to cover their most sacred sanctum, nest or den of sorts, in foreign smells that were not their own or of even any family members. Hardly a home at all in that regard. More like unknown territory.

Oliver exhales loudly, not knowing what to say and not really caring to explain his reasoning to Slade either. The Alpha knew he obviously concealed his dynamic as he continued to try and do so even on Lian Yu before being ratted out by Alphas and the whole exercise just became pointless. His given explanations for doing so were vague and likely stupid in the Alpha’s eyes, Oliver not seeing any reason to change that or expand on the Alpha’s knowledge as Slade hadn’t given him a straight answer either yet.

So far only Diggle and Felicity had managed to chew any real answers out of him and that too was after months of keeping it from them and then a couple more days skiting around the subject while the duo looked for the optimal time to attack him about it. At least they didn’t treat him any differently after finding out the truth about him, albeit Felicity seems fit to blame any of his angry outbursts on Omega hormones.

Even with his father dead Oliver still felt like he had his ghost breathing down his neck. Like hiding had become the norm for him and change would be nearly impossible. Undesirable.

“As long as you haven’t pissed on anything, we’re _fine_ ,” Oliver acknowledges, sighing and attempting to brush the subject under the rug.

He and Slade were like attempting to pull teeth from each other at this stage with the progress their conversation was making.

“Just because you Omega males piss sitting down—”

Oliver knows Slade’s just antagonising him at this point but he can’t help himself and prevent himself from retorting either.

“—I do not piss like a girl!”

“I never said you pissed like a girl,” Slade puts his hands out in front of him as if to mimic a defensive manner, “I said you pissed like a male Omega.”

“And I do not piss like that!”

Oliver shuffles lethargically up from being on his side, getting up onto his haunches and dropping the sheet from over his shoulder to lay beside him.

Slade waits to see what he’s actually going to do, surprised at the response he’s gotten from the Omega. But then Oliver proceeds to peg a pillow at him.

It hits Slade in the face though considering Oliver’s pathetic attempt at a throw and that his doona and pillows were all made up out of feathers, it does about as much damage as Slade would expect it to. It does hit him over his eyepatch though and the Alpha notices that more out of the sensitivity of the area compared to the rest of him than anything else.

Dragging the pillow away from his face, Slade sees Oliver seething next to him, slightly closer than he was before. Clenching and uncleaning his fists at his side and the Alpha just looks almost bored back at him, like he’s seen it all before and Oliver wasn’t bothering him at all.

“Lay back down, you silly Omega,” Slade just shakes his head.

Slade easily enough gets up on his haunches like the Omega has done and then lightly pushes him back down sideways. The Omega hardly makes an attempt at preventing this as Oliver’s quickly flopping his head back down into a pillow with his reaction time having obviously gone to shit.

He returns the pillow Oliver threw his way lastly, dropping it onto the Omega’s head. Oliver quickly shuffles out from underneath it, shoving the pillow back under his neck and head with the other one.

“I do not piss like that,” Oliver affirms, hot and huffing.

“How do you know though?” Slade comments, “Have you ever seen another Omega male piss? I always thought you girls used to go sitting down until I met you.”

Oliver frowns with an expression that portrays his entire disapproval.

“I am _sure_ we don’t. Is that some sort of stupid made-up rumour you Alphas have?”

“Maybe…”

Slade settles back down onto the right side of the bed where Oliver has practically exiled him to. One toe out of line and he’s sure the Omega would try and hack it off from him.

“Wait… When have you been watching me piss?” Oliver nearly shrieks.

 _Only now does he notice_ , Slade thinks to himself… And he’s getting chewed out again.

“Have you been spying on me, Slade? That’s really—”

“Shut up, I haven’t been spying on you, kid,” Slade assures, watching Oliver have his little meltdown.

“Back on the island… I might have though,” the Alpha admits.

Oliver’s  demeanour looks like he relaxes all over and he settles back down into the comfort of the mattress.

That was… not as bad. He was already aware that Slade never let him stray too far back on Lian Yu, likely fearing the worst that he’d be an idiot and give their location away when Oliver knows better.

“You never left, did you,” it’s not a question, “Always spying.”

“Always protecting your arse.”

“I’m not really comfortable you’ve seen me piss though.”

“I’ve seen you naked too,” Slade deadpans.

Oliver wants to crawl up and die.

He could tell Slade he’s seen his cock as well but that doesn’t exactly make him feel any better about himself.

In that case then… as it looks like things can’t possibly get any weirder or more awful.

Oliver sits back up; groaning at the movement his body in no way appreciates. He drops his feet over the side of the bed and peels his already mostly sweat-stained shirt from his body. With his back to Slade, of course. As that would have made things even more awkward, but at least Oliver feels he can do this now—what he’s been dying to do for a while—now that the Alpha’s made that statement.

Chucking his shirt across the room, not caring where it lands, Oliver drops back down onto his stomach. Swiftly and hopefully without giving Slade an eyeful either. It was nice for him to feel at least slightly cooler though, gathering up the threadbare blankets over him again as he was technically half-naked now.

His temperature was all over the place and Oliver was sure he was getting worse by the minute but Slade seemed fine out in the open, cold with only a singlet on.

Was it really chilly or was Oliver misjudging the temperature of around him now?

“Don’t worry; I’m not taking my pants off,” Oliver confirms, though that would have been nice too if he could.

Slade just stares for a moment.

“That’s… reassuring.”

The Alpha cocks his head to one side though, looking like he’s recovered from his moment of shock.

“What’s with the tattoos though?”

Slade’s certain Oliver didn’t always have those, and he just counted one-two-three. Two in addition to the one he’d already seen all those nights ago. Oliver might have undressed backwards from him though that didn’t stop him from getting a good glance at the swooping tattoo down his back.

It started near the nape of his neck and occupied most of his left shoulder blade. It looked almost… familiar to Slade though the Omega flipped over too hastily for the Alpha to be sure he could identify it though. No matter, in doing so Slade got a glint at the… Chinese writing—is it?—running down the side of the Omega’s left abdomen.

He should have noticed that before, back when Oliver was throwing his clothes willy-nilly all over Slade’s office. But… both of them were kind of preoccupied with their mind on other things so it’s reasonable to believe that he would have only noticed the larger, eight-pointed star tattoo over Oliver’s left pectoral.

“What’s it to you?” Oliver responds, “You haven’t given me any real answers yet so I’m not sure why I should give you any.”

“We’re back here again are we, eh?”

Slade wouldn’t say he’s disappointed by Oliver’s lack of an answer but just a stray observation on his part. Nothing he thinks to deserves to be shut down for.

Their conversations just seemed to be going in circles at this stage. Neither of them willing to budge or reveal any more information than the other already had because of the potential prospect of looking weak or just having to open up in general.

It was the dancing around each other situation all over again, only this time with verbal enactments.

They were never going to get anywhere at this rate…

“Yes. What happened to the ‘you tell me the truth’ thing?” Oliver brings up.

“You agreed to that too y’know,” Slade is quick to retort.

“Psh, when I have lied?” Oliver tsks, knowing almost immediately afterwards that he shouldn’t have said that.

“Don’t answer that,” he follows up with, watching Slade smirk back at him.

Slade’s eyes are like a hawk watching him as if it was just a casual thing the Alpha did. Did that make him prey in the eyes of Slade though? He sure feels like it sometimes as Oliver’s swallowing hard around the lump in his throat the moment Slade outstretches an arm between them without warning.

Not quite getting to the point of touching the Omega, Slade stops about halfway towards doing so when Oliver flinches so hard that the Alpha can feel the movement seemingly vibrate through the entire bed. Oliver’s expression might not betray much, the Omega trying his best to remain seemingly indifferent but his actions betray him and show his fear more than anything.

If he has to choose, Slade would say he prefers this over Oliver thrashing and screaming away from him though. This he could deal with.

“You’re uncomfortable around me and you try to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

A moment passes and only the heavy rasps of Oliver’s breathing fill the silence.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Slade attempts to soothe as if dealing with a wounded animal.

Oliver’s eyes were deep, crystal-like orbs staring back into him. Unsteady as tides on the ocean’s surface were and searching him all over, just searching.

The Omega’s bark might have been a lot worse than his bite but no need to get him riled up either. At least not anymore. Not when Oliver got like this.

Sharply exhaling, the Omega just looks at Slade for a moment like he might rip the Alpha’s hand off if he dare touch him with it.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to hear that?” Slade’s left to assume from Oliver’s silence and glaring daggers into him.

“No… How about I don’t trust you?”

Slade props himself up slighter higher on the one side of the bed, lone arm still outstretched.

“Now that’s just harsh. What are you worried about? Afraid I’ll tie to you another chair again,” Slade says jovially.

Before Oliver can reply, reaction time probably less than half as good as it usually was and him being in poor states, Slade swoops a hand up over his jawline. Tilting his head up by the chin and settling his fingers over Oliver’s jaw and cheek.

Flinching, Oliver fixes the Alpha back with one of his piercing stares, hoping it does the job but wavers when he sees the… empathy—is it?—in Slade’s face.

The older man’s face is void of any cold, callous features he’d grown anticipant of seeing there. No stupid smirk either.

It’s a look reminiscent of their time on the island, before all the lies, hatred, and mistakes that propelled them to be at each other’s throats for what has now been too long. When it was just the two of them, and they had no idea how it would turn out, no possible idea that it could potentially turn out like this.

But know they do, they were stuck here, and it’s like their relationship was stuck in limbo. Purgatory.

Slade breaks the silence, though not in the way Oliver would have expected.

“You cut all your hair off.”

His fingers dance over the nape of the Omega’s neck and into the thin locks of hair he possesses as Oliver shudders at the mere contact.

“It was never that long to begin with.”

Oliver forces himself to talk, respond, even as he can feel his jaw lock up and his throat grow dry with uncertainty. He’s scared, or more worried really, but Slade…

Slade was _okay_.

Okay…

Is he okay?

“Looked pretty long last I saw it.”

Slade doesn’t remove his fingers from grazing over Oliver’s stubble and the Omega imagines how he’s practically got his head in a vice right now. How quickly and easily the Alpha could snap his neck, how he nearly had done so in the past but with what he’s more certain was his spine.

_No…_

If Slade came here to kill him he would have done it by now. He was never a man of waiting and patience. Except now, it seems.

_Speak goddammit._

Wait, when did Slade also bridge the gap in distance between them?

“It got worse, I had a lot of split ends and damaged hair that would have taken too long for my liking to repair. So I shaved it all off the first opportunity I got back home,” Oliver chuffs, almost surprised by the ‘small talk’ he and Slade were making.

His massively grown out beard, after a few months of being unattended, could give the Alpha a run for his current facial hair as well.

“That’s… surprising,” Slade sounds like he wants to laugh, “considering you Omega males grow barely any hair at all or at a really slow rate.”

“This is fact, by the way! Unlike the pissing thing which is more disputed,” Slade makes sure to follow up with and he’s sure there’s a grimace on Oliver’s part there.

That was a better sign of the Omega’s comfort at least.

“Call it a rite of passage, if you will,” Oliver drops out of the blue.

Slade’s confused… did he mean…

“What? The moment you stop pissing like a girl and start pissing like a man?”

“I swear Slade, I will—”

Slade promptly prevents Oliver from going on by pressing a finger over his lips.

“Okay, not that. Go on.”

Oliver mumbles something under his breath, too quiet for the Alpha to hear as he pulls back, allowing the Omega to speak again. It’s progressive somewhat that when Oliver goes to speak again it, it isn’t to yell at him however.

“My tattoos. You obviously know about the Bratva.”

Though how much Slade knows he’s not sure and that’s one area of information Oliver can’t expand on for him. Not unless he wanted more trouble on his plate when he’s been sworn to secrecy.

“Do I even want to ask what’s going on there?”

“No,” Oliver affirms when Slade just looks at him.

He isn’t sure how it must look and sound to Slade but ultimately: not good.

Oliver barely notices when Slade lifts and pulls his hand away from his face, bringing it back down to rest beside him.

“The tattoo on your back,” Slade starts, “I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

Oliver sees no point in hiding it though it does make him further question the lapses in Slade’s memory, seeing as he can recognize his tattoo but not identify it. The Alpha must have noticed it when he was pulling his shirt off, so it seems undressing with his back to the older man didn’t really work either.

“Shado. She wore it on her back.”

“And the one on your stomach?” Slade is quick to ask, no doubt able to determine what he wants to know from Oliver’s simple sentence.

 _I have no privacy around you, do I;_ Oliver almost wants to say but holds back from doing so. He can’t ruin the progress they’ve made so far though, even if he isn’t entirely sure he _trusts_ Slade yet.

“ _Shēngcún_. It means—”

“Survive,” Slade finishes for him, “I knew it was Chinese but I couldn’t tell what it meant just by looking at it.”

“Yeah, I got them all at once when I was getting the Bratva symbol tattooed on. It didn’t feel right to get one without the others and once I thought about it, I just got it done.”

Slade smiles, happy with Oliver’s openness with him but also the Omega’s seeming confidence on the situation.

“No hesitation? You just got a tattoo? They’re pretty permanent y’know.”

Having another person say it aloud makes Oliver mildly think about it for the moment. He was never one for tattoos when he was younger, preferring the pure and unscathed skin not only on himself but also on his partners. He was long past that though, past a time where a trivial cut would seem like a nightmare on his skin. There’s probably more than a dozen scars on his body, some of those being burns, so a tattoo seemed like almost nothing in comparison.

“Not really. I’ve got some scars that are pretty permanent as well. At least with the tattoos it was my choice to get them and I was always in control.”

“Shado and Yao Fei, eh?”

“Yes,” Oliver affirms.

Honouring his teachers and the dead mentors that had sacrificed their lives for his. He carried the memories of those people on his body just as much as he did Yao Fei’s hood and once-upon-a-time Shado’s bow too.

“Where’s my honorance then?” Slade asks.

Oliver swallows, not sure if the Alpha’s being serious or not just based off the tone of his voice. His eyes were warm and welcoming though, among also being dark and dare Oliver think… mysterious? He could tell him that Slade left more than enough scars on him for him to think he should ‘damage’ his body anymore for the Alpha, though that was also trudging up uneasy memories for Oliver as well.

“It’s a bit more than skin deep,” Oliver only offers, not too sure what to say.

Apparently Slade does though, maintaining his poker face a lot easier than the Omega seems to be doing.

“What, this?”

Slade waved a hand from himself to Oliver, between them.

“This, what?” Oliver leers, expecting where Slade was going with this.

_Here we go…_

“ _Us_.”

The Omega tries to remain indifferent and aloof at that, though under what felt like Slade’s crosshairs it was a lot harder to do.

But…

“Are you just going to keep asking me questions all night, Slade?”

“What, no—”

“Then it’s high-time I ask _you_ some questions,” Oliver jabs lightly.

 _Yes,_ he could possibly slink away from that terribly hard question he didn’t want to answer for the moment.

“What? Now, you’re just avoiding the question too.”

Slade catches on to what he’s doing.

“I guess we’re even then,” Oliver hmphs, in between wanting to shiver under Slade’s gaze and not being able to stop himself from doing so with a cold sweat covering most of his body.

The Alpha must concede defeat for the moment, withdrawing his question, as he falls silent as if passing the opportunity to Oliver to hammer him with questions.

“I should ask you again why you’re here but first of all, how the hell did you get in?” Oliver asks a little more than demands, scratching the side of his head.

It was something he hadn’t thought of before, too distracted by the ‘why’ and not so much the ‘how’ but then Oliver remembers back at Verdant.

_Shit…_

“Did you break in! What the hell, Slade? You don’t think someone’s not going to notice that.”

Slade had to be fucking kidding him. Fair enough, break the door at Verdant—though nothing seemed to be wrong with it—he’ll replace it without anyway being none the wiser, but his house?! People were going to see that and—

Oliver’s gotten himself pretty worked up by time Slade finally decides to step in and say something.

“—Hold your panties, kid. I wouldn’t just break in; even I know that’s stupid. I have these though.”

Slade drops a hand down to his pants and goes to grab something from his pocket.

 _Oh great,_ Oliver thinks. Don’t tell him Slade picked the lock now, that was almost just as bad.

Slade pulls out a keychain from his pocket though and dangles it in front of the Omega’s face.

Did Slade have a goddam skeleton key!?

Upon closer inspection though—snatching the chain from the Alpha’s hand the moment he revealed it to him—with reflexes Oliver would say he’s quite proud of it at the moment, Oliver notices something different though…

“These keys are exactly the same as the ones to my house!”

Slade just smirks, confirming Oliver’s suspicions.

“Got it in one, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have noticed, as I referenced it this way in this chapter. I ended up removing _any_ and _all_ references to Isabel and Oliver ever sleeping together.
> 
> Usually, I wouldn’t change something that was already set in stone—in canon—before I even started my fic, but Isabel also sleeping with Robert as well is just… well, gross. The latter came first too and is key to Isabel’s motivation so it made more sense to just change Oliver and her having ever done the deed together. They _nearly_ did it, we’ll just say.
> 
> In Omegaverse—seeing her and Robert—this also likely means Isabel identifies as “homosexual” or “bisexual” rather than an Alpha who typically favours Omegas.
> 
> Lastly, more on topic with this chapter, there is a skeleton key in canon, though it doesn’t look like much of a key. It first appeared in _Time of Death_ (2.14) and Slade broke into Verdant to get it in _The Man Under The Hood_ (2.19).


	16. Confessions

Oliver turns over the set of keys in his hands.

Even in the poor lighting and with his back turned in the direction moonlight flooded the room from, there was no mistaking it. He’d know the keys to his house anywhere and these… were virtually exactly the same. The colour and quality of the metal might have been slightly different but it’s hard for Oliver to tell from it being dark in a dim area and him having no real desire to turn even a small lamp on either.

Not when it would all the more easily highlight the flushed texture of his skin around his collarbone and the drops of sweat that drawled down his back and chest to Slade. The growing pit of anxiousness in his gut didn’t help his former case either, as he can feel his face heat up again beyond what already feels like a searing intensity.

He’s all over the place with his temperature, possibly even so with his mood as hormones were a real right pain in the ass.

No light worked more so to the Alpha’s advantage though, as while Oliver had a waterfall of moonlight cascading down and over his shoulder, Slade lay just out of reach in the darkness. Possibly on purpose too, keeping his expressions and façade hard to read. Eyes dark and blending in with the environment, predatorily.

His silence gives Oliver the indication that the Alpha is waiting for him to speak.

Turning his focus back to the task at hand, Oliver raises the keys up in front of himself to get a better look at them where it wasn’t so dark. He wants to hope that maybe he’s just seeing things or that the slight nausea afflicting him was playing tricks on his mind. But the grooves and blade of the keys appeared to be cut the same way as the ones to his front door were.

That was simply no coincident.

He might not have known for certain if they were definitely the same as the ones he too carried on him. He wanted to hope otherwise but know Slade’s admitted it. Some of them—the keys—he didn’t distinctly recognize off the top of his head, what they did or what they were for, but he imagined they were all to the Queen Manor and that disturbed him on some level.

Oliver is tugging away at the key chain back on the mattress, wanting to separate, get a better look at and count the items on it—convince himself it wasn’t true despite the potential stupidity in doing any of this—when Slade comes and scoops it out from in front of him. The Alpha makes a sound of disapproval, somewhat scolding him.

“Don’t pull those off.”

Easily enough prying the keys away from him, Oliver goes to move in pursuit after them but hisses in discomfort before he can really get anywhere. His muscles were seizing up with spasms again and so with disgust the Omega succumbed to flopping back downwards where he lay. Slade’s already pocketed and hidden out of sight the keys again by time Oliver manages to give him a glare about it.

In between being in mild to moderate intensities of pain and trying to keep himself awake with what little proper sleep he had, being able to get mad with Slade was slowly becoming a more difficult task. Along with being able to form coherent sentences that actually made any sense as his motor functions were gradually becoming jeopardize by his heat. Also his growing want to screw—or rather be screwed by—the nearest possible thing in the vicinity of him defiantly wasn’t helping the former either.

“I take it; I’m not getting those back?” Oliver asks after a while of nothing more being said, in regards to the keys.

Attempting to be calm and collected—hear Slade out even though Oliver might not really want to hear anymore of his bullshit explanations—as getting worked up at this point would just be more exhausting to him than anything else.

“Nope, they’re mine now. It wouldn’t even matter if you did actually manage to take them from me though as I have more,” is what Slade offers, all dark and defiant, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“You’re bluffing.”

“But what if I’m not?”

What if he wasn’t…

For Slade to have more than one set of keys though, that would mean he…

Oliver’s mind was awhirl with unfortunate possibilities and explanations for how Slade could have gotten those keys in the first place, mostly things he didn’t want to think about. Let alone what it would imply for the Alpha to have multiple sets of it.

This could all just be a bluff, a ploy to make Oliver uncomfortable to Slade’s advantage but there was too much for the Omega to be worried about not to give even the slightest inclining of the indication any thought.

Had Slade knocked out the bodyguards and other staff left that stayed overnight on the property? Why hadn’t Oliver even thought about or considered this before? How Slade got in unnoticed and unseen? Had the Alpha tried to distract him away from the accusation by smothering his scent all over Oliver’s room?

Had he killed anyone, Oliver feared the most. Not that his concern for the house staff extended as far as it did for his friends and family but he really didn’t know Slade anymore to gauge whether or not he’d do something like that. This was the man that let people in the city and the Glades be experimented on and killed in doing so, after all.

There was still a whole nother set of conversations that needed to be had there, but for now, Oliver was unfortunately leaning more so towards yes, though dearly hoped those keys weren’t bloodstained and pried off a dead body still somewhere on the property.

What about his mother and sister? Would Slade have touched them?

Oliver’s brain and heartbeat are racing a hundred mile an hour, in sync at just the thought of that.

 _He’s killed. He’ll kill again,_ his mind whispers.

_That’s on you._

“What are you worrying your pretty little head about, now?”

Slade’s voice shatters the silence hanging over them but not the impending worries in Oliver’s head.

“Where did you get the keys? Did you pry them off one of the guards?” Oliver interrogates, quickly recovering and back on the offensive.

Trying his best to sound intimidating doesn’t really work but he hasn’t been reduced to begging for answers. Just yet.

“Your lack of faith in me hurts, Oliver. Why must you always accuse me of things?” Slade chides, even as he has Oliver leering and giving him glares somewhere between disapproval and shock.

 _Because you’re a goddamn murderer, that’s why,_ a part of Oliver makes him want to spit but he realizes how intentionally mean that would be. Slade hasn’t really been mean to him so far today, though did being kind of a dick fall into that category at all?

“You give me one more counter question, Slade, I swear.”

“You’ll do what?” Slade hums and Oliver is almost tempted to throw his pillow in the Alpha’s stupid face again.

“You just did it again! Why can’t you just give me a straight answer?” Oliver exclaims.

 _Why can’t we just be truthful with each other,_ he almost wants to say.

Lying to yourself was so much harder than it appeared to be to anyone else.

The Omega was getting worked up again though remains lying down on his stomach as he wouldn’t be threatening Slade anytime soon.

“Maybe, I think you ask all the wrong questions.”

_Oh for god’s sake._

Shaking his head without really realizing he’s doing so, Oliver promptly flips back over so he’s facing the window. Pulling the sheet previously bunched up around his chest and shoulder over his head to emphasise the point of his annoyance.

Childish, yes, but then again, Slade was being just as well that way inclined too.

It was stuffy under even just a thin sheet for Oliver despite the mattress being more on the cold side than anything. His side of the bed and his body were both covered in a thin layer. Enough so that he could feel it and it made his skin crawl in discomfort but on his skin at least, it wasn’t too readily visible.

Between his legs wasn’t too bad either—slick wise—though Oliver still avoided moving the lower half of his body wherever possible, lest he be reminded of how his body was eagerly desiring relief in any way, shape or form it could get it.

Meaning, the only one way it could, other than just waiting it out.

Right now he was more focused on waiting out Slade’s shit though. One of them had to crack eventually and although Oliver might have been considered at the disadvantage here, easily irritated and finding it harder to maintain his poker face, he would not be the one to weaken and talk this time.

He’s already been lenient enough as it is, letting Slade ask him far too many questions—which he was actually somewhat answering—and allowing the Alpha to dodge around his own.

Oliver makes sure he’s careful to mumble none of his displeased thoughts aloud, further shoving his nose into the pillow Slade had no doubt put his hands all over. Not to encourage the smell of it any more but to try and block the unwanted scents out by almost like forcing himself not to breath.

The poking in his back comes on far too suddenly for the Omega’s liking.

Obviously Slade’s doing, but the Omega still harshly tenses up at the touch of a light finger gliding up his spine. It practically sent shivers through him.

“Hey kid,” Slade calls.

Oliver does his best to ignore him, hugging close into himself, sheet pulled over his head.

The Alpha gets slightly more insistent with his prodding though when he notices he’s not getting a response. Going from just nudging Oliver right on his spinal cord to somewhat ill-considerably jabbing him under his ribcage.

“Go away,” Oliver groans, without the energy to actually want to slap away the older man’s hands though.

His shoulder’s then shaking, Slade’s palm grabbing what it can of his upper body through the sheets without forcibly dragging them away from him—which that would definitely tick him off.

“Hey, kid. Are you alright?”

Not responding, Oliver has to refrain from snorting. Intent on giving the older man the silent treatment until he heard some truth in his voice. The Alpha might have sounded mildly concerned in that instant but Oliver wasn’t interested in prying for Slade’s sympathises. He wanted the truth.

And the truth he would get, otherwise Slade would be putting up with his silence for a lot longer. Something he’d learnt how to actually be in his time away from Starling City all those years, quiet. Whereas once he was the life of the party and there was never a dull moment, being able to shut up for more than a handful of seconds at a time seemed like an illusion—a nightmare even.

Now it was just another tactic, another arrow to his quiver, he’d become all too accustomed to using and needing to be.

The prodding in his side quickly dies off though it’s not until a weight shifting on the mattress—movement—happens does Oliver really become alert and perk up again.

Was Slade leaving? Was he really giving up that easily?

Oliver wants to check, risk a glance as to what the Alpha’s up to but he still has to give the illusion of being sick of Slade though. Hence, he shouldn’t even spare a second thought or look as to what the older man was doing and hope he would just go away, as he earlier and much more politely had put it.

He waits on, ears pricked up for some sound of Slade’s desertion, like the door opening or the Alpha scuffling to get his shoes back on—whatever they were—worrying away at the carpet floor. Oliver’s suspicions aren’t confirmed however as he almost immediately afterwards finds himself jabbed now in the stomach.

“Hey, do you remember all those nights ago in the Glades?”

Slade’s voice, he hasn’t left, and now he’s attempting to rouse Oliver by poking him in the stomach.

God that hurt, his muscles were really sensitive from where they’d been cramping and spasming all night.

“Slade!” Oliver growls, warningly.

Throwing the sheets off from over his head, Oliver smacks the Alpha across the top of his knuckles as he’s retracting his hand back.

“Oh, that hurt,” Slade half-heartedly complains.

The older man’s kneeling next to the side of Oliver’s bed, albeit at least not looking as stupid and smug as he was before.

“What do you want?” Oliver practically barks.

He does fumble up the sheets around his chest though, seeing as now Slade has a pretty decent view of it and the Alpha was not going to be allowed the leisure of poking _him_ with any more questions. Like his scars and tattoos, which Slade has already seen, but to most people, the Omega would try and hide it from them.

Force of habit more than anything yet he felt like his female Omega counterpart more than anything, concealing and being concerned about his modesty.

Thankfully Slade didn’t look as if he was sizing him up and down. At least not sexually, remaining crouched down next to the side of the bed. Keeping himself lower than Oliver, which was probably to give the Omega the illusion that he was in control and had more power at the moment.

Common tactic, though definitely not true.

“I asked you if you remembered all those weeks ago,” Slade states, yet noticeably seems to leave out any and all of the important details Oliver would want to hear.

How dare he come over to just start asking questions again.

“Slade—” Oliver goes to growl, accusingly but the Alpha cuts him off before he can finish his sentence.

“This is relevant, I swear,” Slade says appeasingly.

Despite the Alpha holding his hands out like he was trying to approach a dangerous animal, Oliver still doesn’t trust him or find his attempted condolences—could he call it that—comforting.

“It better be,” Oliver forces himself to say without a particular amount of bite in his voice.

Slade just constantly asking _him_ questions was not the way they agreed this was going to be earlier.

The Alpha cocks his head to one side, as if waiting when really Oliver is waiting for him to go on, slightly perplexed by his latest questions.

“Well?” the Alpha verbally pokes.

Oliver looks back at him for a moment, ready to rip into Slade again for poking and prodding him under the microscope then remembers the Alpha did ask him the last question. He wasn’t sure as to where Slade was going with it—he remembered their first encounter all those nights ago, what now seemed like a lifetime ago, in the Glades. It seemed like something both of them would rather forget though.

They’d been stupid and angry with one another, barely understanding why they were that way inclined but knowing the other wasn’t trustworthy regardless. The former probably no longer stands, the stupidity of their actions being realized by the both of them but the latter definitely does. Trust was something that seemed long lost on them at the moment.

Why bring attention back to their… lesser moments now though?

“Yes…” Oliver sighs, uncertain as to where this was going but making sure to leave his statement at that.

Rather than going on and mentioning _‘oh, you mean the part where you abducted me, when I was close to being right on heat, even though it was your fault in the first place I nearly got put through the wringer.’_ Oliver may have been calm at the moment but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still hostile.

Slade just appears jovial, not at all like they were talking about a serious topic but they both had to know that the Alpha was skating on thin ice in this situation. His words could make or break their relationship. Not that it wasn’t already fucked up enough as it is in Oliver’s eyes.

“Well, I went through your things. I had to,” Slade affirms before trying to ease the worries no doubt setting in the Omega’s mind.

He scratches the back of his head absentmindedly, expecting Oliver’s impending blow-up yet not knowing what else to say or how to otherwise start up this conversation. Alphas weren’t usually ones for the touchy-feely-talky-talking, preferring to sort out their issues with good old-fashioned dominance and fists. Despite how far dynamics were supposed to have come since going as far back as they actively existed, they were all still animals in one regard or another.

Occasionally, the ‘opening up’ thing was required though and Slade really wanted to despise every minute of it. It was the only way to get answers from Oliver yet, get the Omega to meet him halfway, which was probably how it should be. How it was supposed to be.

“You what!” Oliver just gapes without actually really yelling at the Alpha.

He looked like he was blinking hard just trying to stay awake, however at least he hadn’t torn into Slade at this latest revelation. Possibly too confused by it all or too tired and exhausted to really care at this point.

“You heard me. It’s the truth,” Slade affirms, not sure how to gauge Oliver’s emotions at the moment.

The Omega only then seems to understand the full extent of what he’s implying, Oliver disregarding all previous thoughts as he’s now entirely focused on what they’re talking about at hand.

“When?” Oliver shakes his head.

When could Slade have possibly had the opportunity to go through his things—what did he even find—as he and the Alpha had been practically breathing down each other’s throats the entire time. Apparently he _had_ to go through his things, what a load of crap.

But Oliver was more focused on the ‘when’ and ‘how’ then the ‘why’ at the moment. Slade’s motives as of recently almost always seemed to be questionable, so why would they suddenly stop being so now?

Slade notices the Omega getting worked up, wide-eyed and seemingly stunned but at least not overtly angry. Better to get the truth out of the way then while he’s still being reasonable.

“When you were asleep,” Slade adds, trying to ease into the issue gently.

Oliver wasn’t having any of that though, no doubt the subject sounding a lot worse than it actually was.

“You mean when you must have drugged me and knocked me out!” Oliver exclaims, practically bristling with annoyance.

He isn’t loud enough to the point where he’d be considered shouting or that anyone else is likely to hear them but the Alpha can tell from the way Oliver’s face is hot and flustered, he’s more than just annoyed at his own body for its bi-monthly breakdown.

“I didn’t drug you,” Slade defends, not moving from where he’s taken up occupying Oliver’s carpet.

Stay down and keep his head low, not appear like a threat.

“I think you would have known had I actually injected you with something.”

It wasn’t possible for him to deny the knocking the Omega out though he’d considering the ‘knocking out’ to be a very loose interpretation of the term. More like further putting him to bed after the Omega had briefly lost consciousness, or what would have been briefly had Slade not interfered.

Oliver had to admit, the Alpha did have a point. He hadn’t woken up in Slade’s apartment, weird building—he didn’t know what it was actually for—feeling groggy or disoriented. Or at least not any more than he would have from having his heat crawling under his skin at that very moment. From too many hangovers and having being utterly drugged up to hell in the past, Oliver knew what having illicit concoctions in his body felt like.

It felt best for him to try and cover all bases however. Not taking any shots in the dark, even if that meant possibly ridiculing Slade, meant he possibly wouldn’t be able to get the information he desired from the Alpha.

Which was both nothing and a lot of things, almost wanting nothing to do with Slade but the compulsion to ask questions and… whatever was going on between them kept him from wanting to send the Alpha into exile and out of his life.

“Fine. You might not have drugged me but you sure as hell knocked me out and abducted me against my will.”

He is so sick of waiting and them dancing around whatever subject they could whenever they actually got to it. He wanted answers and now. Playing stroppy was the way it was going to be if it meant he could accelerate the process of how fast he was able to pry answers out of the Alpha. If Slade was half the Alpha he thought he was, he shouldn’t be able to resist _his_ Omega getting stroppy and would seek to correct that no matter the cost.

Only seeming benefit Bonded Omegas had over their Alpha counterparts. The stupid-minded beasts were a lot easier to bend to one’s will with the prospect of sex to withhold from them. Or maybe that’s just Oliver being harsh but from experience, it seemed to work that way.

“You were worn out enough that all it took was a little incentive to put you out of it—I mean, get you to sleep. You wouldn’t have come quietly had you not been asleep for it and I don’t think either of us would have enjoyed me hauling your sentient arse across town,” Slade explains, hoping that’s enough to appease Oliver.

“Oh, also… Well, I’m sorry about all that,” the Alpha makes sure to follow up with and mention, “things weren’t supposed to turn out like that.”

Slade apologies rather than going on into a no doubt expected further explanation.

The younger man snorts, possibly not believing his attempt to make amends.

Oliver wonders how things were supposed to turn out then.

Was he supposed to die at the hands of some super solider and remain forever oblivious to Slade’s doings? Not make an attempted getaway and run smack dab into Slade, the other elephant in the room?

He wants to scoff and get further enraged with the Alpha but settles for continuing their current conversation, seeing as they’re already gotten this far into it without Oliver ripping off the older man’s head. Trying to get what should be simple answers out of one another seemed to be constantly prefaced with them first running around each other. Right now, Oliver was too tired to even want to do that.

“I would have noticed if you went through my stuff though.”

Oliver would have… wouldn’t he? Even asleep—or knocked out—he was a light sleeper, unless trapped in a nightmare, acutely aware of his surroundings in the outside world. He thinks he would have noticed Slade unveiling all the contraband from his hood but the Alpha did strip off his quiver without him stirring.

Who knows what else he could have done while Oliver wasn’t aware of it then?

“You didn’t do anything to you me, did you!” Oliver can’t help but screech.

His eyes are frantic back and forth in their sockets.

Slade must have undressed him to go through his things, right? _The keys, the keys,_ that’s where this was going. Of course. But Oliver doesn’t care at the moment because he kept his keychain and all other apparatus inside or in the outer pockets of his hood and occasionally his leather pants. He would have noticed Slade emptying and shifting around in his pockets, wouldn’t he?

Did Slade touch him while he was asleep?

Oh that was a scary thought, as in the past the Alpha had never taken advantage of him whilst in heat, or at all really. Not that the Omega knew at least.

Considering where their reuniting encounter went, Oliver almost wouldn’t have put it past the Alpha to do something like that.

“Calm down,” Slade soothes, husky accent slipping through in his voice more than usual.

The Omega would expect the Alpha made attempts to hide it or at least lessen it a little bit around town as an Australian accent was easily pickable in a mostly American city.

He doesn’t go to touch him but Oliver can see the Alpha pull back and refrain from doing so.

He was calm, he was calm. He just needed answers, like right now.

Which Slade was gracious enough to quickly follow up with.

“You already left your clothes all over on my floor so I didn’t entirely get the liberty of prying them away from you.”

That doesn’t exactly reassure any of the woes in Oliver’s mind but he lets out a sigh of relief, content to believe that Slade didn’t violate him. At least not before the Omega pounced on him and possibly ‘violated’ the older man first. That was a little more even and not something the Omega could complain about as easily without the Alpha possibly giving him the same treatment.

“You stole my keys,” Oliver states, in between trying to compose himself.

It wasn’t a question, he knows for certain that’s where Slade must have gotten them now. From him. Straight from the source rather than pried away from some poor staff’s body left on the property that had fallen prey to the Alpha because of his own idiocy.

“I did,” Slade purrs, not even trying to dodge around the accusation now.

“You keep your keychain in the inner pocket of your hood. You probably wouldn’t keep it on you had it not also had the keys to your bike on it. Which is still kind of stupid though, what kind of vigilante carries around the obvious keys to their own house?” the Alpha rattles off a quick explanation for the other, before following up with a question of his own.

The former of which Oliver can’t help but feel is startling accurate. Was he really that paper-thin, like an open book to the older man?

“I take precautions. If anyone ever got me in the situation where they could mug my keys, they’d probably have already de-hooded me and known who I was, without the need of keys to my own house to assure that fact,” Oliver defends himself, not sure why he feels the need to.

Not sure if Slade is agreeing or disagreeing with him, the Alpha just hums quietly in response.

Slade obviously knew who he was before he got up close and personal with The Arrow. Which he’s still not sure how the Alpha did know that—who he was—but that was a question for another time, as right now, he had more than enough he wanted to ask without even thinking to want to add to that pile.

There were still some things that didn’t quite add up…

“How though? Oliver huffs, needing to ask the question.

“How what?” Slade responses, merely looking back at the Omega with his smug, stupid face.

He’s still sitting on the floor beside Oliver, which the Omega finds kind of weird. As if waiting on for his approval before moving anywhere else, even if it was leaving.

“How’d you steal my keys? You couldn’t have as I had them when I left… yours,” Oliver’s not sure what else to say or what to call Slade’s… place, “I still have them now too.”

Oliver nods in reassurance, mainly to himself.

“Are you sure?” Slade queries, gesturing at the younger man.

If Slade was just doing this to screw with Oliver and put doubts in his mind, it sure was working as the Omega moves almost instantly from where he’s laying down.

_When could Slade have—_

The Alpha grabs him by the forearm and prevents him from going anywhere before Oliver can make a move to check on his keys.

“I’m kidding. You need to learn to lighten up a little.”

Oliver turns back around to face the older man giving a slight growl. Refraining from yanking his arm out of Slade’s grasp as the Alpha promptly releases him. He draws his body back under the sheet covers once he realizes Slade is watching him again, the Alpha easing back down onto the floor.

The older man waits until Oliver seems content before continuing.

“I took them the first time—the keys to your house—while I searched your things as you were asleep. I couldn’t trust that you hadn’t taken anything from elsewhere that you shouldn’t have or that you weren’t wearing a wire or something, so there’s some justification for it before you go rattling my cage. No doubt you’d do the same to me, though you’re a lot less subtle about it and took all of my clothes rather than trying to be discreet.”

Oliver just blinks at the Alpha’s overtly long explanation, digesting what he’s heard. So Slade knew he stole his clothes, albeit it wasn’t really for the purpose of searching the Alpha and more so for his own dark desires. Slade didn’t seem to have a big issue with it though, not like Oliver did when the Alpha was stealing all the more personal things from him.

The Alpha’s reasoning behind wanting to raid his belongings in the first place was a bit piss-poor. Not that it really mattered as that didn’t explain _why_ he’d taken his keys if he’d only been looking for something incriminating Oliver could have possibly had on him.

“That still doesn’t explain how you have copies of my keys now,” Oliver notes aloud.

There was probably a logical explanation for all of this—or not really, as this was Slade he was talking about—but it was hard to comprehend through the heat-induced fog setting over his mind. He’d really like a sleep right now, or really any release from the outside world for a couple of hours.

“You’re really out of it, aren’t you?” Slade states the obvious, shaking his head.

Oliver isn’t sure how to respond to that with anything but a growl but the Alpha continues talking before he can make even a sound.

“I took impressions of all your keys, made copies of them. Replaced them while you were still asleep, so you’d never know any different. And no, I didn’t touch or take any of your other things. I technically didn’t even take your keys.”

_What…?_

“You made impressions of my keys,” Oliver repeats.

“Yeah,” Slade affirms, as if it was a casual thing to do and the Omega shouldn’t be mad at him for it.

“What did you take them to a locksmith or something?” Oliver asks lowly.

Obviously trying to hold himself back from just getting involuntarily mad.

Slade couldn’t blame the Omega for getting pissed off or even a little upset with him though. Avoiding the truth would also do that.

“No. I did them myself,” Slade rectifies, “No locksmith’s even open at that time of night and even if they were, creating imprints of other people’s keys isn’t usually acceptable.”

It’s downright illegal, yet Slade avoids saying that as it sounds better if he doesn’t, even if they both know how morally wrong it kind of was.

The Omega doesn’t seem anymore impressed with his answer.

“Right…” Oliver huffs.

“Do I even want to know how or why you have the necessary tools to do that?”

Instead of rushing to defend himself, Slade manages to quickly form a calm response to the Omega’s question while still being mostly honest. It was almost like Oliver’s hidden Bratva association only the tables were turned this time. Which being under the fire and wrath of—the Omega’s volley of questions—was slightly unnerving, as Oliver would no doubt control were things went from here.

“You pick up a lot of things being a spy,” Slade offers, hoping that’s enough to sate the Omega’s curiosity.

The duplicates he’d made of Oliver’s keys wouldn’t fly past a locksmith’s trained eye based on the watered down materials he had to work with, but it was pretty good in Slade’s opinion for such a quick job and fit the bill of what he wanted them for. Not that the Omega would see that as something to be proud of.

The younger man isn’t attacking him though as Oliver appears to deflate in front of him, sinking back into the mattress and dropping his honed defences in favour of being lethargic.

Slade would show that he’s mildly concerned but doesn’t think the Omega wants him rushing to his aid. He’s not sure what to do with himself with Oliver looking like he’d almost fall asleep on him.

“You lied back at Verdant,” Oliver murmurs though not overly accusatory.

Slade can feel his insides seize up, wondering what Oliver’s going to say that he’s done. He’s not proud of what he’s done in the past but being reminded of it just made him feel worse.

“You have keys to there too.”

Slade can’t help feel mildly relieved as _that_ wasn’t anywhere near as bad as what the Alpha expected it could have been.

“Yeah,” Slade admits, seeing no point in hiding it.

Oliver had keys to there too on his keychain, so the Omega probably would have worked it out sooner or later. Later likely as the younger man looked to be fading fast on him at the moment. Though saying he broke in definitely seemed like a good lie at the time. The better alternative than having to reveal what he’s just had to now. Although it had to come out eventually.

“Do you have keys to my bike?” Oliver groans, at just the thought of his statement.

By bike Oliver was referring to the Ducati Diavel he drove around at the speed of light. Also as both The Arrow and Oliver Queen which was again just stupid, but Slade doesn’t say that. He probably pulls the plates off it in the latter scenario or has a separate yet identical bike altogether.

“No. Didn’t see much point in taking them,” Slade says honestly, watching the Omega appear to struggle to stay awake on him.

The Omega was blinking constantly by the second and Slade almost just wanting to tell him to tell the kid shut up and go to sleep.

“You drive a fucking Lamborghini,” Oliver grumbles.

Slade wasn’t expecting that albeit is pleased with Oliver’s statement regardless. Shows he’s lightening up around him a little bit.

“I know right, isn’t it cool?” Slade grins even though Oliver isn’t paying attention or looking at him.

Oliver really groans there. Had he been looking at Slade, the Alpha would have expected an eye rolling on his part. Hell, there might have even still been one.

“Just get back on the bed, Slade,” Oliver says, sounding like he’s admitting defeat.

Too tired to care or dare they think they’re getting comfortable around one another again.

Slade willingly obliges, picking himself up off the carpet. Resuming his position on the mattress hastily yet taking heed to not disturb the Omega or jostle about the bed too much. He didn’t need the sheets, ‘would make him more hot that anything else but Oliver seemed adamant in keeping them bunched up over his shoulder even as he remained facing in the opposite direction of Slade.

Slade refrained from wanting to reach out and touch the younger man.

The Omega wasn’t asleep yet. Slade could tell just based off his breathing being too fast and together for that. Yet Slade is fine to settle into the role of protector again all the same.

Just like old times, even if Oliver didn’t need protecting this time or there weren’t any potential threats around.

It was good to see Oliver relax and feel he could unwind around him. Even if it was with a statement about his apparently ‘stupid’ car. Though Oliver having lost consciousness in the alleyway he’d pulled up into in the Glades… he wouldn’t have expected the Omega to have noticed it.

Come to think of… Oliver barely had time to notice it as he was mostly skating around on his feet, shakily and face-to-face with Slade the rest of the time. That didn’t make any sense…

And as experience with Oliver had just shown, things that didn’t add up were worth investigating and prodding the other about.

“Hey Oliver,” Slade calls quietly.

Not wanting to harshly rouse the other or by hand.

“What?” Oliver responses though the Alpha doesn’t consider that much of a response.

The Omega barely stirs or turns over but Slade takes this as his queue to go on.

“I never showed you my car,” Slade says, seeing it best to question Oliver quickly before he really did fall asleep on him.

Oliver shifts beside him, turning over sluggishly yet at least doing so all the same.

“Yes, you did—,” the Omega starts before stopping and meeting the Alpha’s dark eyes.

_Oh shit._

Oliver just looks back at Slade wide-eyed and stunned like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which they both know, he probably had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver’s motorbike is confirmed as a _Ducati Diavel_ in canon. Or at least the one he uses in Season Two is.


	17. It's Not The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This _scene _has gone on for way to long. It’s become like a saga in itself and admittedly, Slade and Oliver still haven’t sorted out all their issues… yet.__
> 
> Here’s the conclusion to this overly long scene though! That’s something… I guess.
> 
> Thanks to LadyPaige for helping me out with this one.

Every Omega was said to behave differently whilst in or around their heat cycle. They usually all shared the common and obvious belief of staying the hell away from Alphas—and just about everyone else—when underequipped to defend themselves or even really possess the sobriety of mind to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Some of them were overly fragile and hormonal, crying at the drop of a hat, others were rabid dogs who gave Alphas a run for their money with their surprise aggression.

Mostly, Omegas around that time of the month toed the line between seeming like the victim of a bad flu and an oversexed prostitute who is far more likely to be paying you than the other way around for the knotting. From Slade’s experience with Omegas, and above all Oliver, the younger man fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. With credit to usually also saying and doing really stupid things that he didn’t mean to, like he was now.

In short, swindle Oliver for questions and answers whilst in heat. He won’t have the energy to get overtly angry back at you but also won’t have the willpower to be overly mentally evasion. Point in theory, right now…

Slade waits on without saying anything so as not to further embarrass the Omega.

“I can explain,” Oliver chooses to stutter out with.

Red-faced and looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Though he was also removing any notion that the Alpha would just possibly forget about the situation or that the Omega might have been able to more aptly brush it under the rug, instead further admitting to it and choosing to go on.

Slade isn’t overly bothered by the situation, it’s a car for crying out loud, and it doesn’t really seem possible either for the Omega’s skulking around to have been any worse than his just was. He’s pretty much breaking and entering whereas Oliver gets flustered at the mere mention of something he _shouldn’t_ have seen. Yet it doesn’t really make a difference if he has or hasn’t but it sure as hell appears to make Oliver uncomfortable.

The latter being good in the sense that it’s an opportunity to pry for more explanations even if this is one he doesn’t really care for.

Slade wonders if he should consider himself honoured that the Omega’s likely snuck around his building—as the Arrow no doubt—perhaps looking for him. It certainly wasn’t a one-sided thing to do and the Alpha wants to bet if Oliver did, it wasn’t for the crappy reasoning of: ‘I-don’t-trust-you-and-need-to-be-keeping-tabs-on-you’.

“I bet you can,” Slade purrs.

Both in an attempt to ease the worries on the Omega’s mind and somewhat intimidate him to further share them with him.

Oliver must succumb to giving in quickly as he lowers his head slightly and averts his eyes from Slade’s dark gaze.

“You parked it outside Verdant,” Oliver affirms.

 _True,_ Slade thinks to himself.

The Lamborghini easily standing out against the crappier aspects of the Glades, tucked into the alleyway beside the club. Which was possibly careless of him to just leave it there, but should it happened to have gotten stolen or trashed, so be it. Just buy another one, maybe something less flashy next time.

A million-dollar car could hardly be considered unnoticeable, regardless of where it was at, so it makes sense that Oliver would have picked it but…

There was always a but.

“That seems like an overly convenient excuse for you, albeit a good one,” Slade hums, “considering if you had seen it back then you would have known something was up. Rather than continually walking into your little club basement and straight to me. Element of surprise, after all.”

Slade almost wants to grin madly from ear to ear. Knowing his explanation was practically flawless. The Omega would never willing walk into a trap even if it was a poorly set one at all. All Oliver having to do was take the other entry into Verdant and his poorly placed Lamborghini would have been a dead giveaway. But Oliver didn’t… so know he has the Omega caught on the opposite foot.

Now he’s lying, or at least making attempts to cover _something_ up—some of his stupidness and anxious probably having to be accredited to his heat cycle—when they just got done having that same accusatory conversation with Slade.

It might have been hypocritical, but it was more amusing that anything else to the Alpha at the moment.

Oliver screws his face up, brow furrowing, almost as if in disgust. He was able to make a surprising amount of faces still for someone who had their features disgruntled in pain every other second.

“You’re a bad liar, Oliver.”

“I didn’t lie,” there’s a pant there or some manner of the Omega catching his breath, “I stripped the surveillance from the security cameras back at the club.”

Now that… that made more sense to Slade. Admittedly, mulling it over, he’s a little disappointed with the clarity of it all as it would have been nice to more verbally call Oliver out on _his_ bullshit, for once.

Wait… if Oliver pulled the footage from Verdant—that time after Slade found out how utterly wrong he’d been and nearly killed the Omega, ultimately earning him with an arrow in his eye—that means the Omega must have seen his… meltdown of sorts. Crumpled on the side of his car where he’d stared down the existential horror of what he’d done.

The Omega seems to sink downwards again, collapsing into himself once he’s certain Slade isn’t going to drive anymore accusations at him. Sweat beaded alongside his hairline but despite all odds, Oliver seemed determined to not let his guard down in front of Slade. Can’t show weakness, don’t fall asleep.

Shifting slightly in something mildly akin to anticipation—a solider before an attack—Slade forms a response to Oliver in his head before he says anything. Not wanting to lose the Omega but not knowing how to keep him talking all the same. He feels bad, a sliver of guilt, though he’s not sure as to why.

He’s sure he’s already apologized for back on the freighter, albeit once or twice didn’t simply feel right for the magnitude of his fuckup.

“I… I’d never intentionally hurt you,” Slade forces himself to say, possibly disturbing the Omega.

Who barely looks up from where he’s attempting to rest. Fingers twitching and the occasional shudder he would make—that just about rocked the whole bed—signs that he wasn’t very successfully.

Oliver makes a low noise, like a huff, perhaps dismissing him.

“You’ve said that before,” the Omega grimaces, expression pained and contorted.

Though whether that was because of his own bodily struggle or because of the omens looming over their conversation—possibly both—was unknown.

Slade knows he’s possibly loosing Oliver to sleep and personal irritation but he has to try all the same.

“I did…?” Slade asks, slightly dumbfounded.

When did he say that?

He’s always felt the same way, except when he didn’t… but he wasn’t always very vocal about his feelings—men, after all—and doesn’t know when he would have seen it fit to tell Oliver just that. That he didn’t mean to hurt the younger man, never would have if he’d always known what he’d done to cause things to grow stale between them.

“Back on the boat,” Oliver says, with a pensive look on his face, “After you saved me.”

Saved him from the clutches of the mad man that was Ivo, intent on crafting some new world order—as he saw it—with the Mirakuru. Yet Slade had stopped that, slaughtered the bastard the moment he saw the scientist had Oliver.

Oliver finds he still manages to have nightmares about it all. The boat, Slade disappearing, getting kidnapped practically right on top of his heat, Ivo’s crazed babble of things he neither understood nor wanted to. Ivo stabbing him with a syringe full of Mirakuru, which was apparently more like poison than a cure to an Omega. He’d thought he was virtually dead, even though none of the green substance looked to have crept into his body; needle tossed aside and abandoned the moment he pulled it out of his neck.

Slade had proceeded to utterly smack the shit out of the Beta scientist, albeit the man definitely deserving it in his eyes, the sight of it was still unnerving all the same. Slade made sure the man was completely gone before seeming to perk up and notice him. He’s sure not only he, but also the Alpha, weren’t sure if he was actually lying dead there or not for a moment.

He’d been alive though, and so had Slade. Slade had come back to him.

Although it wasn’t all flowers and roses either, it wasn’t all doom and gloom by the same token. They were alright. Slade had truly held off for that long, he’d never hurt him and had always protected him despite how much of a dead weight he could be. There was something between them, surely, beyond physical attraction as even that only went so far.

But it wasn’t like they were going to be actively exploring it either—whatever it was—as the Alpha had even been the one to tell him that ‘attachments got you killed, caring got you killed’.

In that instance, after being separated and no doubt both worrying about one another for seemingly so long though, it just felt right to do something about that. It just… it just happened.

Oliver had never even felt like that before though, the need to comfort and be close to another person whilst in heat. Usually his body resented it with every fibre of his being, the intimacy and uncertainty of allowing that connection to happen but it happened all the same.

Usually Oliver didn’t go in for that kind of stuff but they’d shared their first kiss—first kiss, what is he a virgin now?—hugged and welcomed one another like they might not ever see each other again. Oliver had been uncertain at first, not sure where it was heading but wanted it regardless as experience had shown, he could very well die tomorrow.

It’d been right… but they’d fucked it up. He had fucked it up. And more than anything else Oliver dreams about killing his best friend, what created this rift between them and wishes it wasn’t so.

Slade must notice he’s deep in thought as the Alpha attentively grabs his wrist from where it’s been laying at his side, giving it a light shake and breaking Oliver’s trance.

“I have a clear head now…” Slade sighs, though it comes out like an apology more than anything.

Oliver haphazardly blinks sleep out of his eyes, coming back to himself as he meets the Alpha’s gaze of melancholy.

He’s not sure what to say but Slade has at least confirmed the gaps in his memories before. There wasn’t much it seemed like he really could say, not knowing the whole situation. So the Omega remains silent, waiting for the Alpha’s elaboration on the matter even as Slade keeps their hands close. Keeping his slightly larger hand over Oliver’s fingers, which were thin and long, especially adept at pulling back a bowstring.

Even after Oliver falls thoroughly silent, addressing Slade, the Alpha waits a moment, mentally mulling over his words. What could be more easy than expressing one’s feelings, right? Wrong. Or at least it was from a male, thoroughly Alpha perspective.

“You already know this, but I have a lot of holes in my memory,” Slade forces himself to start with, each word like a struggle to get out.

“Mainly from on the freighter, as not everything adds up there but I can’t be sure there’s not more though. That’s the beauty of retrograde amnesia, I suppose. You can’t remember what you’ve forgotten and I might never have, had you not mentioned it at your little base. That something other than just what my poisoned mind thought had happened had really went down.”

“So you remember now?” Oliver asks, hoping it’s not a tasteless thing to say.

Almost surprised that Slade’s let him in to speak.

It would make things a whole lot easier if the Alpha managed to magically remember everything he’d forgotten, albeit possibly unrealistic.

“No,” Slade says, eye cast downward, confirming Oliver’s suspicions.

“Not really.”

It was a vague answer but Oliver understood it as well as their want to both be ambiguous and uncertain with one another at times.

Oliver shifts slightly, still keeping his hand near the Alpha’s though.

A small show of trust and something comforting to the Omega but not overly invasive.

“I never remembered what happened. I’m not even quite sure what caused me to forget in the first place. Seems like it would have saved us a lot of trouble, the miscommunication, if I hadn’t.”

Oliver hums in response, flicking his fingers up into the palm of Slade’s left hand where they’ve got their arms still left outstretched near one another. Not entirely sure the reaction he’s looking for but the Alpha draws his digits along Oliver’s own in response.

Oliver shudders, Slade’s fingers far warmer than his own and he seizes the Alpha’s hand up in a weak grasp involuntarily.

“Not your fault,” the Omega murmurs, speaking quietly a sure sign of the slight embarrassment he feels over his current actions, “Getting stabbed in your frontal lobe is bound to cause some memory loss.”

Oliver might have flunked every biology and scientology class he ever sat, preferring to spend his time in them gossiping about a Beta’s rack or skipping them all together, but even he knew damage to the brain possibly meant damage to the memory. Some kinds of head trauma and injuries might have been recoverable from but the mind was a more long and gruelling process to heal. ‘Was prone to supressing things it would rather not want to acknowledge or have to live with.

Oliver knows this from his own experience and dreads his decision made on fear and adrenaline alone to stab Slade at all, even if it meant stopping his advances. No one deserved that kind of uncertainty in their mind they couldn’t even answer for, as all they could draw upon was a blank slate.

Slade gives Oliver’s hand a squeeze reassuringly, not with hard pressure but enough for Oliver to notice that the Alpha now has their hands intertwined. The Alpha’s hand was hard and firm but Oliver doesn’t pull away, instead leaving everything where it is.

“Not your fault either, kid,” Slade soothes, thumb rubbing over the Omega’s knuckles, “For you to have decided you needed to stab me in order to stop me… things must have been pretty bad. Considering you barely had the spine to want to try and kill Fyer’s men and they’d been threatening us for months.”

Oliver doesn’t like the comparison Slade tries to make there but takes it more as a poke to the fact that he wasn’t always a battle-hardened archer, quick to defend and fight for himself.

Returning the Alpha’s rub over his hand, thumb gracing over the wiry hairs down Slade’s wrist, Oliver feels his stomach tie itself in a knot, uneasy.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Oliver stutters out with, “I didn’t want to… But nothing else seemed to be getting through to you and I determined I might even have to hurt you if it meant getting through to you.”

Talking fast and words drawn together without much of a breath in between, Slade can tell the Omega must be mentally reliving what had happened.

“I just wanted to stop you… You were hurting me but I never meant to hurt you. I think I knew you didn’t mean it, that you weren’t in control of what you were doing but I was scared all the same. I missed you, you left without saying much of anything after Shado died and that was all my fault to—”

“—Shado was not your fault,” the Alpha cuts him off, raising his voice slightly and squeezing the Omega’s palm.

The Omega can feel himself cower a bit inwardly, disheartened by Slade appearing to get irritated with him, but when the older man goes to speak again, his voice has returned to a more neutral tone.

“Just like nothing I did was your fault either. You can’t blame yourself for things that were, and still are, out of your control.”

Oliver had said before he pretty much blamed himself for Shado, Slade wondered how many other things the Omega punished himself for.

“You don’t know that,” Oliver whimpers and he can feel his lip quaver.

God, he’s getting emotional now. Just want he needed. Stupid hormones.

“Yes, I do,” Slade affirms sternly, seeing as that might be the only way to get through to the younger man, “Ivo killed her and knowing Shado she would have tried her best to ensure neither you nor your little girlfriend’s sister got hurt. I asked her to. Regardless of what happened to me, she’d find and protect you. And she did, she made sure you were okay when I couldn’t and I blame myself for saddling her with that responsibility.

I should have been looking out for you, not Shado. But she did it anyway and I’m eternally grateful that she did. Because if not, I’m not sure if I ever would have gotten to see you again… And it kills me to say that because I shouldn’t have been so weak. If I can’t protect one little Omega, then what can I do?”

When Slade finishes his monologue his whole body seems to tighten and go tharn, Oliver feeling the pressure around his wrist intensify but not to the point of it being painful.

Everything the Alpha said made sense, though it didn’t make him feel much better about Shado. Considering Ivo had told him to choose and regardless of the process involved the Alpha female had still been the one to end up with a bullet in her head. It felt less like she was protecting him, as Slade would put it, and more like he was sentencing her to death.

“But I—” Oliver goes to protest once he’s sure Slade’s done.

The Alpha wasn’t having any of that however.

“But nothing, kid. You blame yourself for me, understandable. But I won’t let you blame yourself for her, because this is just between you and me and even our bullshit has gone on for far too long.”

Slade stops for a moment as if to take a breather and even though the Alpha is firm with him, Oliver can see his words mainly seem to come from a point of concern. Despite how rough around the edges the older man could be.

“I hurt you, I acknowledge that. I hate that and I sure as hell didn’t mean it but I can’t change the fact that it happened all the same. I was my most unstable those first few days after that shit you injected me with to save me didn’t just outright kill me, and even now I’m still not sure if I’m always myself. I was prepared to outright sink Ivo’s ship to the bottom of the ocean with Fyer’s leftover missile launcher if it meant that bastard could never hurt you or Shado again.

‘Probably would have too had your Beta friend Sara not came to convince me otherwise. Told me that bastard had taken you again and oh, I wanted to rip him to shreds personally. I’d kill anyone who stood in my way because he had just taken Shado from us and he was _not_ allowed to take you.

The girl said it hadn’t been that long ago that she’d managed to get away but I didn’t care, I was not going to take my chances sitting around waiting for you to turn up dead.”

Slade pauses, noticing Oliver looking at him intently. Oliver doesn’t say anything yet and the Alpha’s not sure whether to take that as a good or bad sign. An indication to continue or a signal that the Omega utterly didn’t want to hear any of this.

“Do you want me to stop?” Slade asks, concerned for the Omega.

Oliver gives a firm shake of his head almost immediately.

“No. Go on,” Oliver affirms, “I want to know.”

He _needed_ to know even.

Maybe it would give him peace of mind to know things from Slade’s point of view.

Slade looks at him for a moment without saying anything as if asking him if he was sure before they both seem to decide that Oliver is indeed sure. Seeming to recollect his thoughts, the Alpha goes on, emanating a heavy exhale.

“Ivo’s men had docked the boat in order to get onto the island so as you can imagine, it wasn’t too hard to get back onto it and they weren’t mobile again by time I got to getting there. I was so mad and angry, I barely knew what I was doing but I knew I’d do whatever it took to ensure I got a chance at seeing you again. A lot of stuff happened, I don’t really remember it all but I know it wasn’t good.

Sara gave somewhat arbitrary directions for where things like the holding cells were on the boat before staying behind while I stormed the bloody thing. I knew your scent though; no amount of directions could match being able to know that off by heart. Even though an Alpha’s sense of smell is supposed to pale in comparison to an Omega’s, I’m sure the Mirakuru’s made my sense of smell a lot better.”

To the point where none of the dank, dark corridors of the boat were going to stop him.

“I had to find you.”

Slade must stop to collect his thoughts or possibly to give Oliver time to process this new information but the break from the montage is nice all the same to the Omega. Slade seeming to also purposefully omit the details on the people he would have had to have killed in order to reach and continually take the boat. Or maybe he didn’t remember that either, although it was ridiculously unlikely that the ship’s crew would have just let him freely walk on.

It seems like the Alpha had spent a lot of time thinking about it, planning his explanation. Hearing it now, despite likely still digesting all the information, made Oliver mildly hopeful. That they could be truthful with one another and that things weren’t all as bad as they might have originally seemed.

Slade and Oliver both look at each other as if on queue, exchanging glances and that seems to give the Alpha the notice to go on. Oliver squeezing Slade’s hand still around his own, consolingly.

“I… I thought you were dead. When I saw you lying there on the floor, tied up with your neck all crooked… I was going to kill _him_ , I was going to make him regret ever taking you from me. And I did. I pretty much brutally murdered Ivo with my hands but it was nothing compared to the despair I felt when I was so sure you were dead. That I’d not only failed Shado but I’d also failed you.”

Slade stares downwards for a moment, gaze dark and unreadable and Oliver can tell _this is heavy_. That it was not only hard for him to hear but also hard for Slade to say. He had yet to hear the most important part of what had to be said though, the moment that sparked the hate and betrayal between them and for that reason he couldn’t let the Alpha stop just yet.

The Alpha seems to understand this, even without the verbal commandment and must mentally shake of his feelings of dread before continuing.

“But you were alive, oh you were alive. I was practically ecstatic as I thought I might never get to see you again. That you would have died thinking that I’d abandoned you when really I was trying to protect you by making sure Ivo’s men could never return to get at us again. And I missed you too, I never wanted to let you out of my sight again and I regretted not telling you my feelings sooner. I tried to on the sub, while I was dying, but you told me that you pushed me away because you didn’t want me to get hurt.

I didn’t know what to think of that, but it didn’t matter as I had my opportunity then. I was going to make it up to you, I was going to show you that I was the Alpha most worthy of your affection and… And then you were going into heat. That was really bad ‘cause I was still kind of mucked up in the head and you smelt really good. I mean you smelt like _really good_ , better than ever and once you said yes—or okay, really—I just kind of lost it...”

Slade trails off and Oliver can see the Alpha’s potential embarrassment about allowing himself to be so thoroughly consumed by pheromones showing though.

That did leave him with a question yet.

“Wait… How are you managing to be around me now then?” Oliver poses the query.

He wasn’t hot-to-trot to the point of desperately wanting to jump whatever was in front of him, but he was still in heat. Like right now.

“I’ve gained a lot of control since then,” Slade states bluntly.

Oliver gives him a look like ‘ _is that all?_ ’

“I _also_ swung by Verdant before here, looking for you. Borrowed some of your scent blocker while I was at it to cover my tracks and doused myself before coming to see you. The stuff really works, I’ll admit. Albeit disgusting to wear because I feel like I can’t breathe properly half the time,” the Alpha explains.

This… made a lot more sense to Oliver, despite the fact the he should be more annoyed about Slade going through yet _more_ of his belongings. Obviously the Alpha hadn’t applied it entirely correctly as Oliver could still smell him, which was usually the Omega’s main point of wearing it, to completely and thoroughly conceal himself as the Arrow. It’s ability to diminish smell was notably as well, granted Oliver didn’t rely on his olfactory system much. Hormone suppressants already putting a nice dint in it for him.

“Now, are you going to let me finish?” Slade rattles off, almost as if he was itching to go on.

Oliver nods vigorously, almost wanting to apologize for the slight interlude but stops himself from doing so.

“I mustn’t have realized what I was doing but I know I went into a really strong rut. Like a really strong fucking rut and I wanted to do it right there. And then… nothing. I just have this hole, this big gaping gap in my memory where I don’t know what happened only that after that I woke up—why was I even asleep—, something was wrong. I couldn’t see out of my right eye, it was like I couldn’t open it at all and there was something in it.

I had to pull it out, it was like it was hurting me but my body had forcefully ejected it out as far as it could. I pulled it out. It was… painful, and I think I took most of my eye out with it.”

Pausing for a moment, the Alpha trails his free hand over the eyepatch on his face.

Oliver doesn’t even want to contemplate as to what’s under the dark fabric and swallows hard hoping the Alpha won’t force him to face the reality of what he’s done. The scar on his hip was nothing compared to Slade having to practically rip out his own eyeball.

“You stabbed me in the head. That was the only conclusion I could draw from where the rest of my memory had left off,” Slade begins again, voice melancholy and heavy from talking for so long.

They’d been at it for at least an hour now, although it felt like a whole lot longer, and so far it still felt like they had more to discuss then they hadn’t already. This was definitely something that couldn’t just be covered in one night alone.

“I’m not sure if it was because of trauma, the stabbing or the Mirakuru warping everything out of portion, but I couldn’t remember a damn thing about what could have actually happened to cause you to do something like that. You gutted me and you left me and it was like you took my heart with you.

I hated you for that.”

Those last words were like a proverbial punch to the gut for Oliver and the Omega can almost feel himself wheeze at the response of how hollow it makes him feel inside.

Like how Slade must have felt, waking up with Oliver’s arrow jutting out of his eye.

Going to pull back, feeling like he’s almost violating the Alpha for just touching him, Slade tightens his grip around Oliver’s hand before he can pull away.

“Stay.”

Slade’s eye is dark like the night sky when Oliver finally brings himself to meet it. Hard to read but his voice betrayed his solemn attitude.

“But…” Oliver murmurs, “I thought you hated me.”

Oliver’s eyes shone with tears and he could feel the first pooling of wetness on his cheek. His chest ached and his breathing came together in gasps like he was trying to breathe with glass in his lungs.

Slade’s entire demeanour softens as he sees this, hard mask abandoned from his face.

“Oh, kid, c’mere,” the Alpha gestures towards himself, withdrawing his hold over the Omega’s wrist, “I could never really hate you.”

Oliver doesn’t know why but he accepts the older man’s gesture, throwing himself forward towards him without a word. Maybe he’s just being hormonal because of his heat but he needed the comfort in that moment.

Oliver flops down onto the older man’s chest, skirting past his outstretched arm and dropping his chin on Slade’s pec. It mustn’t hurt as Slade doesn’t so much as grunt in response but Oliver links his fingers through the fabric of the Alpha’s shirt more softly, gently. So that one of his hands is coiled up by Slade’s stomach, elbow resting outwards and his other arm is lying backwards behind him as he couldn’t quite get it in there.

He shifts slightly, testing the waters and certainty of what he was doing, careful that his chin didn’t dig into the Alpha’s chest too much even if it might have otherwise meant smearing his tears into Slade’s singlet. His feet were nearly dangling off the side of the mattress even with them partially curled up and the fact that he was facing sidewards but Oliver didn’t care. Having Slade’s warm, comforting Alpha scent envelop him, he was more content this way.

Even if the trade-off was having his chest somewhat hard-pressed against the Alpha’s own in what could be considered an uncomfortable positon.

Taking a moment to calm his breathing, Oliver _waits_ , unsure as to Slade’s reaction as the Omega _doesn’t move_. He can’t see the Alpha’s expression without shifting his head from where he’s nestling his nose into Slade’s clothing but Slade could most definitely see his. The vulnerability and the insecurity of him, of allowing himself to go bare before Slade.

After what seems like an eerily long time, but is in reality only a few seconds of the silence being filled with Oliver’s breathing coming together slower and slower, Oliver feels Slade move.

There’s a hand on the small of his back and he manages to not go absolutely rigid at Slade settling his palm on him.

He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Slade rubs small smoothing circles into his back and Oliver lets himself sink back downwards, collapsing more than he thought possible. Letting himself just meld over the Alpha even as small stabs of pain were occurring in his stomach. It was like nothing compared to the pain… any of the pain related to never seeing Slade again or feeling like the Alpha possibly hated him.

“Can I stay here?” Oliver forces himself to ask, voice low and quiet.

Almost like a child.

He averts his gaze so it’s not even possible for him to see Slade’s face even out of his peripheral vision but the Alpha grabs him by the chin and gently guides his eyes to meet Slade’s lone one.

“You’re alright, kid,” Slade says, voice warm, and the Omega can believe he means it.

“Oliver,” he says in response.

Even as Slade takes his fingers away from his chin, Oliver allows himself to drop slowly back onto the comfort of the Alpha’s chest. Where it was warm and he could listen to the older man’s all-to-fast heartbeat and be sure he was alive. Alive and there with him.

“Mhm?” Slade makes a sound of acknowledgment.

“Call me Oliver,” Oliver affirms.

Fluttering his eyes open and shut, the Omega suddenly feels overwhelming tired. Exhaustion catching up with him as he blinks liquid out of his eyes hoping that was the last of it.

“Okay, Oliver.”

And Oliver lets himself rapidly lose consciousness, Slade’s heartbeat soothing him to sleep as the Alpha watched over him.


	18. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end notes for notes.

Oliver wakes up an indeterminable amount of times throughout the night.

He’s not sure of the exact number of times he’s shuddered awake, lying in his own sweat and utterly _aching_ with want. He guesses though somewhere around the same amount of times Slade dragged him off of him, lightly shoved him back onto the mattress and Oliver determined it wasn’t going to happen _this attempt_. Maybe more so, because although Oliver doesn’t remember much of what happened during the night after he last ‘willingly’ lost consciousness, he does recall trying to hump the shit out of Slade several times.

That’s why when Oliver next wakes up, he’s immediately thankful he’s _without_ the intense desire to get Slade’s dick into him as fast as possible. His heat has passed over, and not soon enough.

“Morning,” a voice calls near to the Omega, seconds after he’s started blinking himself awake.

Oliver shifts upwards immediately, moving and pulling himself up by his hands, name on his lips before he can even think.

“Slade!” Oliver blurts out before he can see the man.

The winter sun’s shining into his room, bright but not blindingly enough to wake him up. It meant it was likely already past eight in the morning—shit, he’s slept in—and the day had already begun.

Oliver’s eyes quickly find Slade, the Alpha lying back on the cream chaise longue against the wall, a book in hand.

He was fully dressed—had been all night—and it makes Oliver apparently aware of his own naked chest which he only seemed to get conscious of around with the older man.

“You’re still here?” Oliver says, unsure of his words.

Last night feels like something completely awkward that the Omega doesn’t know how to address though doesn’t feel like he remembers enough of it either to be burying his head in the sand just yet.

_Yet…_

Waking up after a heat cycle reminded him so much of being hungover in his fratboy days it wasn’t funny. And he hadn’t even tried to drink himself through this heat either, bottles of alcohol in the Queen Mansion usually going unexplainably missing around the time Oliver would also go into heat.

Slade drops the novel he’s had open onto the floor—what looks like his copy of Homer’s _The Odyssey_ to Oliver—before turning to fully address the Omega.

“Yeah,” Slade responds, “all your attempts to fuck me—or rather, get fucked by me—throughout the night didn’t drive me away.”

Oliver groans sitting up in bed.

Of course, one of them was going to bring it up eventually—preferably not him—but the Omega would have hoped they could have been a little bit more chaste about the subject and let him forget about it before he was forced to confront the wave of shame and embarrassment currently overcoming him.

“I didn’t..., uh,” Oliver starts, then pauses realizing he has no idea what to say.

He can feel Slade’s gaze on him and he was looking for even cracks in the ceiling—which there were none—, anything to keep his eyes away from the Alpha’s own likely stupid, smirking face.

Was him having never really been around an Alpha during his heat a good excuse? Sheltering himself away from them was something he’d always thought and been pressured by his father to think was the smartest thing to do but then when it came to just _being_ around one at that time…

Slade’s pheromones and natural, _really nice_ , stupid bothersome scent must have been too much for his already worked up mind and body to handle at the time. As well as their previous conversation being pretty heavy but at least Oliver only remembers getting hormonal about it the once.

There were just way too many things for him to be embarrassed about here.

Oliver hastily gathers his thoughts, sensing the silence around them lingering for too long.

“I didn’t…,” Oliver pauses, how does anyone ask something like this, “do anything too bad, did I? I’m still kind of a bit fuzzy on what exactly happened last night after I fell asleep.”

The Omega then mentally scolds himself. The way he worded it makes it sound like he’s in the wrong or something here.

Slade sits up fully from the elaborate couch he’s been lying on, looking like he’s been wide awake for a while and not at all seemingly sluggish, unlike Oliver.

“For once I’m not the one with the gaps in my memory,” the Alpha laughs, low and smiles.

Oliver doesn’t know whether to take that as comforting or unnerving as it’s like the Alpha seems to be forgetting the very _serious_ discussion they had last night about both nearly killing one another.

“Shut up,” Oliver chooses to respond with, though without any bite in his voice.

He’d probably remember eventually, all the stupid things he did during his heat, but for the moment last night was a hazy blur that Oliver was appreciative of being just that—hazy.

Slade moves out of the corner of his eyesight and he sees the Alpha get to his feet, stretching.

“No, you didn’t. ‘Might have woken me up and tried to have sex with me like have half a dozen times but I’m not sure that constitutes bad,” Slade bluntly says.

 _Oh God_ , Oliver can only think. So his ill-coherent memories held true, he did indeed try to get in Slade’s pants multiple times. Or rather get Slade in his.

“You didn’t… do anything either, did you?” Oliver forces himself to ask, mind jumping to conclusions.

His sweatpants—which were quite nicely living up to their name of sweatpants at the moment—were still intact and around his waist but that didn’t mean anything.

“What? Are you asking me if I actually fucked you? God no! Last time I did that there were some consequences and I ended up with a Bond with you. But yeah in all seriousness, I didn’t touch you. Only maybe to shove you off of me but I was gentle,” Slade jokes, walking around the room.

Instinctively Oliver almost goes to pull semi-damp sheets up past his waist.

“Ummm, thank you,” the Omega thinks to say.

Slade admitting to have not done anything to him was reassuring and while Oliver wasn’t ungrateful for that he also couldn’t help but think.

“Why?”

Oliver drops the question in the air and Slade stops pacing by the window.

“Are you asking me why I didn’t have sex with you when you were just about begging me to?” Slade asks, brow raised.

“Yes,” Oliver says, wondering if his question sounded stupid or something.

Alpha and Omega just look at each other for a moment.

Slade then moves from the widows leading out to the balcony to drop down by Oliver’s side of the bed on his haunches. Just like he’d done the night before.

“Well, firstly you probably would have castrated me if I did and I’m trying to get on your good side. I don’t want to fuck up with you again like I did last time so I thought I better keep my hands off you—” Slade begins his explanation before Oliver interjects.

“—Wait, which last time are we talking about?”

There were that many so-called ‘screw-ups’ in their relationship that Oliver actually felt the need to ask _which one_. It had to be between back on Ivo’s freighter and that night in the Glades nearly six weeks ago though.

Oliver keeps eyes on Slade, who looks so calm and collected whereas Oliver felt like he just kept on coming up with unanswered questions in his mind.

Like _Why didn’t Slade supposedly not have sex with him_? _Did Slade not want to? Was it last night’s conversation? Was he not attractive to the older man? Was he really weird and off-putting during those times he couldn’t remember? Why was Slade still here in the morning? Does he find Slade attractive_ —of course he damn does _?_

But most of all Oliver thinks, _Did_ he _want Slade to have sex with him?_

Which he couldn’t really come up with a definitive answer to. Last night altered a lot of previous assumptions and feelings in his head and more importantly in his heart. More than ever he was feeling confused about his feelings for the Alpha and then what Slade wanted, the older man’s motivation for just being here right now.

Falling asleep crying on the older man, he hadn’t really thought about when he’d next have to face the Alpha—let alone it being the next morning—and really when he’d feel ready to next confront Slade. Or even if he wanted to at all.

It was all so uncertain and Oliver just didn’t _know_ but being around Slade right now made his heart flutter. He also kind of just wanted Slade to go away and leave him to his own thoughts but that was a lesser desire within him.

He wanted to hear Slade speak right now.

“What I would call the bigger fuck up,” Slade starts with, like waiting for Oliver to cut him off, “at least on my part. The one where you gave me a shot on Ivo’s freighter and I repaid you by giving you that scar on your let hip.”

Slade even points it out with his finger, the almost animal bite-like mark in a crescent shape running from above Oliver’s hip indent to onto his lower abs. It was big. Certainly not the biggest one on his front but certainly one of the more noticeably ones.

Oliver groans, they were back _here_ again. He wants to pull up the covers over his stomach and hide the scar though that seems like the worst way to respond to the situation.

Slade’s stopped speaking and it’s like he’s waiting for Oliver to talk, the Alpha wants him to say something back.

“Yes,” Oliver speaks sternly, trying his hardest to keep his voice from wavering, “and I stabbed you in the head, gave you memory loss, made you rip out your own eye, sentenced you to be alone on the island, and that’s not even the end of it… I-I… I kind of think one outweighs the other, Slade.”

Oliver bites his tongue, instantly thinking his words were wrong to say.

“What are you saying?” Slade asks, voice solemn.

The change in the tone of conversation is almost immediately noticeably in the atmosphere around them. It’s tense and thick, like Slade could cut it with one of his swords.

Oliver has to break his gaze away from Slade’s face in order to speak.

“What I’m saying is, I can’t… I-I can’t… It’s just a scar, just a scar. I don’t care about it anymore. I have probably tens of scars on my body. I don’t see it. I don’t have to see it unless I take my shirt off and am really going to pay attention to it. I’m more concerned with the concept of what it represents then the scar itself. But you…

I ripped your damn eye out, Slade. That’s a bigger deal. A non-visible scar on my body is in no way a bigger deal than me putting a hole in your head—at least maybe not concept wise. So, I… I don’t want you to treat it—me—like it is. That you _hurting me_ wasn’t just as big of a deal, or just as bad as, me _hurting you_ was and still _is_.”

Silence… The quiet between them resumes and continues. Oliver can hear himself breathe. He doesn’t look at Slade. Slade doesn’t say anything either. What the hell did Oliver just say, why?!

Why did their conversation have to go back to _this?_ It started so well, it seemed okay, today was a new day—

“—You really feel that way?”

Slade’s voice cuts through Oliver’s thoughts like a bullet to the brain would. Just like an arrow to the head would.

Oliver speaks quickly but chooses his words carefully, letting his gaze slide back over to Slade but not fully rest on him.

“Yes… I don’t think we should keep talking about it. It’s not something we can change and we’re both aware of it now. I think it’s keeping us from moving on. It might be a bigger deal for you than me because you can’t… you don’t totally remember what happened and haven’t had as much time as me to think about it, but I’m tired, Slade. I don’t want to fight you anymore and… I’m glad you didn’t have sex with me today because I wouldn’t have been fully aware of what was going on.

And I’m sorry if asking about it reminded you of that time on the freighter. I was just surprised and sort of happy that I could trust you to not do anything while I slept or I wasn’t fully myself.”

Oliver lets out a sigh, one of both tension and relief, when Slade’s features don’t immediately contort into one of negative emotion.

The Alpha brushes a hand up over his face and into his hair as his face loosens somewhat.

“Yeah, well, what you said was true. It’s not like I was going to have sex with because I respect you but also because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’re on that track right now, Slade,” Oliver remarks bluntly.

“I mean physically, Oliver. Physically. People hurt each other emotionally all the time. I could walk out of here right now and I could still give you grief. I can’t control how you entirely feel about me. But I don’t want to fucking hurt you again like I did back on the boat.”

 _So that’s what this is about_ , Oliver thinks to himself. What it probably always would be about between them. The two of them unintentionally hurting one another.

“But… I also can’t keep myself away from you, okay. It hurts me. Not just the Bond, which exists and I don’t think we should keep ignoring that either. Yet it hurts me in ways that nothing else could. It’s… It’s killing me – the distance. And I couldn’t stay away from you and I wouldn’t stay away from you last night because I don’t want what we have to sever.

I knew that if I did, that if we didn’t see each other for a long enough period of time, the Bond would sever. It’s not entirely binding.”

Slade stops and takes a breath.

It was obvious to Oliver that the Alpha seemed to have thought about this a lot. Just as the Omega himself had. It was eating away at the both of them.

He makes himself look at Slade. Makes his heart flutter on purpose and he ultimately is giving Slade the opportunity to hurt him.

But the Alpha’s words don’t.

“I… like you and… I want the opportunity to be around you, but… But… I also don’t want to hurt you. Not again.”

“You won’t,” the Omega can’t help himself but offer.

Seeing the Alpha apparently beating himself up over this.

“See, but you don’t know that—” Slade goes to start, looking down at his hands but Oliver objects.

“Yes, I do,” Oliver affirms, “You wouldn’t still be here, have stayed here all night if you didn’t want to be here and weren’t also taking me into consideration.”

Running a hand over a smooth towel soaked with sweat beneath him, Oliver picks up an end of it sticking out from under him.

“See!” Oliver pushes, shoving the towel towards Slade as far as he could without pulling it out from underneath himself.

“You put down damn towels to absorb all my sweat and there’s a still moist hand towel here on my pillow that’s probably been on my head. You’ve been taking me into consideration all night and all you can think about is if you might hurt me?

You ever think that maybe staying away from me is what’s hurting me too?”

Slade gets to his feet and takes a step backwards as Oliver promptly gets to his own, hoisting himself off the bed with a bit more effort than usual.

The Omega stands taller by a couple inches but Oliver tries his best, even bending his knees slightly, to have their eyes as on par as possible.

He still hasn’t got a shirt on but the fever’s passed and the air no longer feels like it’s scalding his skin. The slick between his thighs and in his boxers is uncomfortable but something Oliver can deal with until he gets a chance to shower. He manages to not shift on his feet too much as he points a finger at Slade.

“What do you want?” Oliver more or less demands, dropping the question out in the open.

“What?” Slade blinks back at the Omega, confused.

They’d just had another one of their seemingly very in-depth and also very serious conversations and now Oliver was going a little vague on the Alpha.

“What do you want, Slade? I’m serious. I want to know. What’s your whole reason for being here tonight—well last night?”

Oliver knows he might be making a risky decision by truly asking the other the question but after over a month of uncertainty the Omega was hoping for some more clarity between them.

Slade doesn’t waste any time in pondering over his thoughts.

“Well, I’m here to fix this, kid—I mean, Oliver. I’m here to try and fix _us_.”

Although their bodies are close Slade doesn’t make any attempts to reach out to Oliver during his condolences.

“It’s mending, Slade. I get you weren’t yourself that night.”

“No, but that’s not the end of it,” Slade practically scrambles to say.

He reaches out for Oliver’s hands at the Omega’s sides and quickly envelops them with his own larger ones in front of them.

“What I want,” Slade starts, eye dark and looking Oliver straight in the face, “is for you to give me a chance.”

“You want me to give you another chance?” Oliver repeats back.

Allowing the Alpha to keep their hands together, Oliver notices how long it’s really been since he’s let someone do something as simple as hold his hand. Although he and Slade might not be really holding hands at the moment, it’s nearly been over a year now since he last tried to hit it off again with Laurel and failed. As well as Helena and Mckenna but those relationships didn’t last very long either.

Tommy was an indecisive moment of weakness for Oliver that still gives the Omega pangs of guilt to think about but that also might be because he felt partially responsible for the Alpha’s death. Isabel Rochev was a narrow brush for him in Russia but other than skiting away from the female Alpha that time they had drinks together, Oliver can’t honestly say he’s done anything relationship-wise for a while.

Which before the island would have been absolutely ludicrous for him.

Maybe he should give Slade a chance…

“Yes!” Slade remarks adamantly.

“I want you to give me the same chance you gave me back on Ivo’s freighter before I went and ruined it for the both of us.”

Oliver rolls his eyes slightly thinking they were supposed to be trying to move on from back on the Amazo.

Slade must notice this as he rubs Oliver’s hands between his own the moment their eyes seem to divert.

“Hey. You told me back on the sub—and I remember this—that the reason you never did anything about _us_ back then was because you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“I didn’t want you to get killed, Slade,” Oliver says crudely, “And you did. It was kind of my fault. And in case you haven’t noticed people around me tend to get killed.”

Yao Fei, Shado, Tommy… the bodies in his life certainly were starting to pile up and Oliver never wants to have to bury another grave like he had to after The Undertaking.

“Yes, well I can protect myself a little better now, can’t I?” Slade quips before continuing, “But that’s what you told me. That’s what _you_ told me—”

Oliver realizes where Slade’s going with this and cuts him off.

“—Alright. I get it. Circumstances have changed again and we’re in a better position to do something about _us_. Do I really need to hear all this as soon as I’ve woken up?”

Oliver gives the Alpha a look that reminds the other than he has literally just rolled out of bed and five years on an island didn’t quite make him a morning person. Or at least not a morning person where the day of his heat was concerned.

“Oh okay, sorry,” Slade is quick to apologize, “I didn’t want to chew your ear off again, but—”

“—Yes,” Oliver cuts in.

“But—” Slade goes to start again, eye bewildered.

“But yes,” Oliver repeats, “I trust you, somewhat and I think what we have… should be explored. So you can have your chance.”

Slade’s face lights up like a Christmas tree and he smiles a genuine smile.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Oliver says for what feels like the thousandth time today.

Slade drops the Omega’s hands and brings them back to rest at his sides as he can see Oliver’s patience starting to draw thin with him.

“But yeah, thank you.”

The Alpha stares at his feet for a moment.

“I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t actually expect—”

“Slade,” Oliver drones, shaking his head.

“I kind of need you out of my house. Not that I don’t entirely want to talk but my family and the house staff will be downstairs by now and I can’t just walk you out the front that easily. It will look a bit odd.”

Oliver explains, already fretting how they were going to go about this.

Slade getting into his house seemed so easy and wasn’t even something Oliver really considered—the Alpha just letting himself in through the front door. Now that more people were awake and occupying the manor and its grounds though… it was no longer such an easy stealth mission to get Slade in and out of his house without it no doubt raising some questions in other people’s minds if they get seen.

The stress must show on the Omega’s face as some of the joy seems to leave Slade’s. Slade realizing too late a potential error in his plan to just come and visit Oliver late at night.

“I can do that,” Slade affirms, nodding, “But there’s one last thing you should know.”

Oliver stops in his tracks from where he’s been moving away from Slade as the Alpha talked to him.

“Slade, I need to shower and think of a way to somehow get you out of my house in a way that doesn’t seem suss. You need to stay put and not go anywhere. It can wait.”

Giving Slade a glance over his shoulder, Oliver dismisses him as he heads to the bathroom. There’s a sort of snapping sound in the background like a rubber band being pulled but the Omega pays it no mind.

Maybe he could pass Slade off as a friend or a business partner or just anyone really, anyone he had warrant to bring into his house at like eight in the morning. Oliver just really hopes they aren’t seen at all though as the Omega inevitably chuffs Slade out of his house.

Said Alpha is in front of him again hastily though, up in his face, hands in front of him and blocking the doorway to his ensuite.

“Slade…” Oliver goes to growl, not sure the Alpha knew how hard he was continuing to make this for him even after he’d said ‘yes’ already.

“I probably should have told you this sooner but…” Slade stutters out with.

“What?” Oliver just groans, giving in.

He waits for Slade to tell him what it is that’s so important that he needs to keep holding him up, then notices his hand. Slade’s hand, he was holding it out in front of him and in the palm of his hand was a little bit of black fabric. Shit, it was his eyepatch.

Oliver looks, he knows he doesn’t want to see it, he knows he shouldn’t see it—whatever damage he’s done to Slade’s face, the result of a grave error he’d made but he can’t help it and he’s quickly looking up…

_To nothing…_

Oliver blinks several times, waiting for Slade to say something.

He wasn’t… really sure what he was seeing but Oliver was sure it couldn’t be right…

Since he’d re-encountered Slade again all those nights ago in the Glades Oliver had thought about what the state of the Alpha’s face must look like under that patch. The damage Oliver had left on him. Whether he would have gotten the skin sown together or Slade just had a big mass of uneven flesh where his eye used to be. Oliver didn’t know, how the skin would come back together over something like that and he usually didn’t like to think about it as it just reminded him of how guilty he felt over it.

_But…_

“It healed, see? I’m okay. I can see,” Slade blurts out.

The Alpha pointing out with a finger his _very much intact_ right eye.

It hardly looked any different from Slade’s eye before and it’s why Oliver might not have immediately picked it, looking at the Alpha after he’d taken off his eyepatch. He looked the same as always, like how Oliver remembered him from before on the island.

Oliver’s face quickly contorts into an expression of annoyance as he shoves Slade out of his way, making sure to slam the door behind him.

“Fuck you.”

xxxxxxxx

Getting Slade out of his house had gone better than Oliver expected. He’d showered, reclothed himself in smart casual clothing—seeing as it was Saturday, which thankfully meant not having to go into Queen Consolidated—, taken his suppressants for the day and then proceeded to spray every inch of his room and himself with Beta deodorant. The latter of which Slade thoroughly protested to and at least got out of his face for.

All whilst Oliver refused to talk to Slade.

Oliver did eventually have to say something to him though, throwing a nice jacket at the Alpha who was keeping his eyepatch off for the moment. The jacket went over his singlet to otherwise try and conceal how weird Oliver thinks his appearance would come off to his family as if they caught sight of Slade.

Slade replaced the eyepatch over his face before Oliver all but pushed him out of his room, the Omega still remaining mostly silent the entire time. They were quick and efficient about it, Oliver looking around hallways and checking doors before signalling for Slade to follow him. Oliver greeted his mother before dismissing her and declaring he had somewhere to be but otherwise no one held up either Slade or Oliver, potentially demanding why he had some weird Alpha in his house.

Slade picked the right damn time to cooperate at as Oliver releases a breath, making his way out of the front gate at the Queen Manor. The Alpha was right beside him and kept giving Oliver looks, trying to talk to him which proved the silence was indeed getting to him.

“Where did you put your damn car, Slade?” Oliver asks, voice void of any really emotion.

He’s walking Slade up the sidewalk outside his house, not sure what else to really do to ensure the Alpha did in fact get in his car and leave. Oliver didn’t really want him doing anything else as right now he was pissed off and letting Slade know just that.

“Will you just talk to me for a damn minute, Oliver?” Slade pleads, trailing off with a growl.

The Alpha damn near walks in front of him as Oliver swiftly moves past him, spotting the Alpha’s stupid elaborate, black car up on the stretch of road ahead of them.

“Why is your Lamborghini parked halfway on the sidewalk?” Oliver asks, allowing himself to talk to the Alpha but not with any real sense that he cares in his voice.

He was walking as fast as he could without straight up breaking into a jog towards the vehicle, which at a closer distance Oliver could see was really awkwardly parked on the road. The right side and its wheels were edging up onto the pathway and it looked odd considering how expensive the vehicle was.

“I was in a hurry,” Slade says, at Oliver’s side and walking practically in sync with him.

It alone was starting to annoy Oliver, how the Alpha would walk straight next to him, looking at him the entire time and he knew it was Slade’s way of declaring that Oliver wasn’t going to shake him very easily.

Oliver finally stops though next to Slade’s Lamborghini.

Slade stops behind him and Oliver sees the lights flash on the car as the Alpha unlocked the stupid-looking thing. He can feel the Alpha move near him and Oliver turns around before the Alpha can sneak up behind him.

“So nothing’s wrong with your right eye then?” Oliver accuses, more so than asks.

He couldn’t help but want to know as it looked about as real as any other eye was in the short amount of time that Oliver saw it, which was back when he was still letting himself look at Slade.

Slade shifts on his feet, leaning back on the side of his car.

“No… not really. Might not be quite on par with the left one but it did grow back,” Slade admits, kicking at the concrete with one foot.

Oliver had never really thought to consider that. That the Mirakuru could have repaired Slade’s eyeball, pupil, cornea and all, though he supposes he also never would have thought to consider Slade was still alive either after he’d ‘killed’ him.

“So when can I see you again?” Slade calls from behind Oliver.

“So you… Why didn’t you tell me your eye was fine sooner?” Oliver queries, acting as if the Alpha had never spoken.

Slade did not get to ask his questions right now. He had lied to him, or probably more accurately kept something like this from him, but the two seemed one in the same in this situation.

Oliver can hear Slade sigh behind him.

“I… I didn’t want you to know. I know it’s probably better that you know but… It’s not a good thing,” Slade answers, voice coming out tight and husky.

Wondering what the Alpha means, Oliver looks over at Slade who’s still slouching on the side of his car.

“Why is it a bad thing that I know?” Oliver retorts, unsure of the Alpha’s bullshit.

Slade looks away from him almost as quickly as Oliver had looked over at him.

“It’s bad because… Because it’s something that I held onto as a reason to hate you with. And I didn’t want you to know about it even though it’s healed and we’re supposed to be all good now because I don’t feel that way anymore,” Slade confesses, letting out a heavy exhale.

Oliver doesn’t pry to ask any further as to Slade’s reasons why, about any of it. He didn’t need to know. They were supposed to be moving on from that chapter of their life and then Oliver had gone and given Slade the cold shoulder about it when the Alpha was just trying to be honest with him.

He was so stupid…

Walking over to stand next to Slade, Oliver waits to see if the Alpha wants to say anything else. A bad attempt at an apology but somewhat of an attempt at an apology all the same.

“So… when can I ummm, see you again?” Slade asks again, going back to his previous request.

Oliver can’t help but smirk, hearing the Alpha ask something like that.

“Don’t push it,” the Omega affirms, meeting the Alpha’s gaze softly.

“I took the liberty of putting my number in your phone while you slept and vice versa, so I guess… I’ll call you then?” Slade offers.

Oliver rolls his eyes and starts walking back to his house in the opposite direction.

“I’ll text you then!” Slade yells from behind him and Oliver just keeps walking.

They were healing at least. They could heal. Together they could heal.

And maybe together they had a shot at happiness—or maybe even something more.

Oliver didn’t know, but he was giving Slade that chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel time!
> 
> Well, this chapter has been a long time coming but we’re finally here. The last chapter of _Reap What You Sow _and with it I’d like to say a couple things if you’re hopefully reading these notes.__
> 
> Firstly, this isn’t the end. _Reap What You Sow _was becoming a bit long on its own and was always fully intended to have a sequel but only know am I really happy to confirm it.__
> 
> Secondly… I know the Mpreg, the tags lied! I did initially intend for the Mpreg to appear in this part of Reap What You Sow but I feel it’s something best pushed back to the sequel now.
> 
> Thirdly and possibly most importantly, I want to say a big thank you to every reader out there. Thanks for sticking with me.


End file.
